


Skipping the Stone

by badwolfjedi, sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Collaboration, Consequences, Cookies, Dawn Summers is The Key, F/M, Fanart, Fanfiction, Frozen Yogurt, Healing, Loss, Love, Magic, Magic has consequences, Regret, Reunion, Skipping through time, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-08-17 08:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 104,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfjedi/pseuds/badwolfjedi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: Buffy finds out that Spike was dusted in the big battle with Wolfram and Hart. Angry, hurt, and determined, she finally agrees to take a daring risk with Dawn to go back in time and make sure Spike knows he’s loved even if it doesn’t change his fate. This is a story based on Javajunkie’s challenge, Whisper in a Dead Man’s Ear.Story author: Sandy S.Mood board designer: Badwolfjedi*Beautiful banner by Javajunkie247!*Disclaimer: We own nothing. Joss owns all.





	1. Making a Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a collaborative story-art venture between Sandy S. and Badwolfjedi...we hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The chapters will all be third person but move between Buffy and Dawn POV. 
> 
> Special thank you to Badwolfjedi for betaing this chapter! 
> 
> Beautiful story banner by Javajunkie247!

_Buffy_

 

Buffy wasn’t ready before, but she was now. 

 

Nothing much had changed since Sunnydale cratered. She was still finding and helping train young girls – only now they were full-fledged, badge-wearing, handbook-toting Slayers and not just potential, maybe-they-might-one-day-be Slayers. Many were still scared and confused, and dealing with the magnitude of the consequences of the spell to make all potential Slayers into actual Slayers was another weight on Buffy’s heart. 

 

Her heart had borne enough weights to last a lifetime. . . or three.

 

In other words, she was still exhausted – her mind and body stretched to their limits. Even now, her eyes burned and head throbbed from lack of sleep, and her muscles ached for the soft cushion of her pillow top mattress and the slip of the cotton sheets over her dry skin. She really needed to remember to drink water and eat more than snacks throughout the day. What had she eaten today? She had no idea.

 

All she knew was that her brain and heart went into twin tailspins when she got the news from Angel. L.A. was decimated, Spike had been there for the past year, and now he was dust. Again. 

 

Her first feeling was raw, unfiltered anger that surged through her body until all her muscles were tightly coiled and ready to burst into action. 

 

So, her cheeks burning from the heat of her tumbling emotions, she’d let Angel (and the poor telephone) have it.

 

She was pissed at Angel for not telling her that Spike was alive, pissed at Spike for not telling her he was alive, and pissed at herself for not making sure Spike knew how much she cared about him. She knew she’d confused things by kissing Angel that last night in Sunnydale. She was such an idiot to not consider how much it had impacted Spike. Their relationship wasn’t established but was understood – or so she thought.

 

At the end of the call with her ex, she’d somehow managed to set the broken cordless phone back into its cradle. Somehow, she had turned away from the tumult of emotions in a way only Buffy Summers could do – sometimes had to do. Somehow, she had gone about the day. The only person who had sensed something was off was Vi. The redhead was the only person who sort of knew her at the temporary training building. 

 

Willow, Xander, Giles, Faith, Robin, and even Andrew were off gallivanting across all the parts of the world, finding Slayers and organizing resources. Dawn was taking her last finals in a Cleveland high school that Buffy couldn’t remember the name of. 

 

She’d brushed aside Vi’s concern, picked up her stake, and taken the new Slayers on patrol. Buffy was nothing if not efficient at the shove-aside-your-emotions-and-be-a-soldier part of her life. The girls had been impressed by how she’d dispatched the (too small) nest of vampires, and they’d missed the tear that she’d wiped away before jumping to her feet. 

 

Now she was home – if she could call their rental house a home. 

 

Now her heart was filled to the brim with unacknowledged and unexpressed emotion. She showered. Her face was freshly scrubbed and made up, and her hair was in two long braids. The preparations had allowed her to solidify her thoughts. She bit her lip. Was she ready for this? Her heart was telling her she was. She was ready to do what her sister had offered to do six months ago. 

 

Six months ago, he had been alive, and she had had no idea. What did that mean about her? About how he felt about her? It meant he hadn’t believed her, and if he had. . . 

 

A second tear trailed over her cheek, streaking her foundation and meandering down her neck as she gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her green eyes were steady in their determination, and she pressed her lips together. This had to work. It had to. She couldn’t live with herself if it didn’t. 

 

Heading with purpose to Dawn’s bedroom, Buffy didn’t bother knocking (as was a big sister’s prerogative). Instead, she turned the knob and pushed open the door to the dark room. An arc of light from the hallway fanned across the matted carpet, and almost immediately, her sister was awake. She was as used to sudden interruptions as Buffy by this point. 

 

“Buffy? W-what’s going on?” The sheets rustled as her sister pushed up in the twin bed. Buffy could see her raking her hand through her long hair. 

 

“Let’s do it.” Buffy declared and then paused before clarifying, “I’m ready to do it.” 

 

“Wait. What? Do what?” Dawn turned on the lamp next to her bed. She blinked confused eyes at her sister. “Buffy, what happened?”

 

In the bright lamp light, words come tumbling out of Buffy’s mouth in a rush. “Spike was alive. Or undead – whatever. All this time. And now, he’s gone. Dawn – Dawnie, he didn’t b-believe me, a-and now, he’s dead again.” Tears came hard and hot now, and Buffy managed to somehow stay standing up as the barrage of everything she’d tried to brush aside rushed forth. 

 

In a moment, Dawn’s arms were wrapped around her, bearing her up for what seemed like forever. When Buffy felt like she could breathe again and maybe even have a coherent thought, Dawn took her by the shoulders and pushed her back. Buffy saw that tears of regret stained her sister’s cheeks, too. As Buffy watched, her sister set her jaw.

 

“Buffy, we’re going to do this. He’s going to believe us.” Dawn’s mouth went briefly to one side as if she was realizing something. “But it can’t exactly be tonight.”

 

“Oh? Why not?” Buffy couldn’t help the disappointment peeking through her question. She was prepared. Damn it.

 

“I need to get some fresh supplies.” 

 

* * *

 

_Dawn_

 

Two days later, Dawn laid out all the ingredients that she’d carefully gathered, her hands shaking almost imperceptibly. She couldn’t pronounce the names of half of them, but they were familiar from the Magic Box and from Anya’s once annoying and now strangely endearing lectures when she had looped Dawn into helping stock the shelves. In any case, Dawn knew exactly what they were all for. Even when Buffy had rejected Dawn’s initial proposal, Dawn believed she’d come back around. 

 

Hence the need for keeping some of the ingredients on hand and hence the need for practice. Buffy didn’t realize how much Dawn had practiced. No one knew. 

 

She’d just done little short jumps at first. Five minutes here. Ten minutes there. Always by herself but usually when her sister was nearby and asleep. 

 

It was a little thrilling and surreal to recognize that she went back, her body making the same movements, emotions echoing in her chest despite her different thoughts – a bizarre backward déjà vu until she regrouped in the past and could command her own body again. 

 

The biggest jump she’d made so far while mingling the spell and her own powers was four-and-a-half hours. That was how she knew that the time jump really worked; she’d ended up in the car, driving home from Slayer training with her exhausted sister. Dawn had no idea if she could make the kind of jump in time that Buffy was expecting – the kind of jump she’d promised. 

 

Dawn bit her bottom lip, her hand lingering on the tattered, aged leather cover of the most important volume she’d found on the subject. She knew the magic was inside her; she felt it, holding it back before, keeping it tempered. She hadn’t wanted to do something crazy and end up back in the 1800s or attract a whole bunch of unwanted supernatural-type guests who might want to use her for their own ends. 

 

But that was then. Now. Now Buffy was ready, and Dawn was more than ready – she hoped. 

 

Buffy brushed Dawn’s hair over her shoulder and then took her hand. “You sure you’re up for this? You’re shaking.”

 

Dawn swallowed her fear. “Yes. I’m sure. We’re going to do this.” They were going to travel back in time before Buffy changed her mind – before she changed her mind. 

 

“Okay.” Buffy moved her hand away and crossed her arms, her serious Slayer face sliding into place. “What do we do?”

 

“Mix the ingredients and spread them in a circle around us. I’ll say the spell and access my. . . key-ness.” And pray to God above that she didn’t accidentally kill either of them. “And then, whoever is in the circle will go back to Sunnydale.”

 

“As easy as ABC.” Buffy’s voice was soft and laden with emotion, and her finger traced over a small pile of herbs. 

 

Dawn shrugged. “Kinda. I honestly don’t know how it’ll work with two people, but all the materials I’ve read said that with more distant time periods, there might be skip-age.”

 

“Skip-age?” Something in her sister’s eyes shifted, and Dawn saw the certainty change.

 

She rushed to explain, a metaphor she’d thought about a few months ago sliding into place in her brain. “Like how a rock skips over the surface of the water. Say the surface of the water is like the timeline in the past. Well, the pull is for the person to be back in his or her own time. So, under the water is the present – when we are now. The rock skips so many time across the surface of the water before it sinks.” 

 

Buffy tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “What you’re saying is that we’ll jump through the past before slipping back into our present? How will that help anything at all?”

 

Dawn nodded. “That’s the way this particular spell works. But I don’t know how me being the key affects that. . . how the magic I harness within me changes the spell. My guess is that my power tempers the skipping so that we’ll stay in one space and time longer before jumping ahead.”

 

“How do you know?” 

 

Dawn’s heart sped up because now, Buffy had refolded her arms and was giving her that big sisterly stare that said she knew something was up. Dawn drew in a deep breath. “Truth?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I’ve practiced a lot.” She scrunched up her face and squinted at her older sister, waiting for the reprimand.

 

“Dawnie!” Buffy’s expression relaxed. “And?”

 

Dawn smiled. “I never did any skipping of any sort. Granted, the farthest back I went was four or five hours, and I went through the time again until I was back where I started. But the people who did this spell in all the books? They were bouncing through time with even the smallest rewind. Hence, not many people doing this sort of spell. Not very useful.”

 

“So, you’re saying that no one else has found a way to make it more ‘useful’ until you.” 

 

“Yes. Exactly. I’m the key. I’m special.” Dawn emulated Buffy’s crossed-arms stance and smirked.

 

Buffy finger-thumped her. “You’re pretty special, all right.”

 

“Ow!” Dawn thwacked her sister back, her index finger barely hitting her sister’s forearm as she danced away. Dawn sobered. “You still want to do this? Because I want to.” She needed to; she felt so much sorrow about the way things had ended with Spike. The gulf between them had never been crossed. 

 

Several unnamable emotions flitted across Buffy’s face. “I do. What else should I know?” She gestured at her body. “Should I change clothes? Bring something with us?”

 

Dawn laughed. “You can’t. You’re going back in time into your own body – the body you had at that time; you’re not physically going back. There won’t be two of each of us running amok.”

 

“Oh. That makes it easier.” Her sister twisted a strand of hair, looking younger than she had in a long time. “I wouldn’t be able to decide what, if anything, to bring.” She gestured at the bag she’d brought into Dawn’s room earlier and just left there. “I mean, it looks like I packed a bag, but really I just threw a whole bunch of stuff into it without thinking too hard.” 

 

Dawn laughed and then sobered. “There’s one other thing you should know.” She wasn’t absolutely one hundred percent sure on this next part, but it was an inference she made from the texts she’d read and the stories that had been passed down. It was the bit that she was most anxious about. 

 

“What’s that?” Buffy put a hand on the table. 

 

“You and I might jump through time at different rates and/or spend longer at one stop than the others.” Butterflies took up residence in Dawn’s stomach. She hadn’t exactly been chill with every trip she’d made back in time, but this was the real thing. The anxiety butterflies were extra big and flapping their wings with extra energy.

 

Her sister’s eyebrows drew together. “Uh oh. That’s not good, right? I thought we’d be going together.” 

 

“It’s not clear. We should think of some way to communicate with one another that won’t be picked up by our other selves between jumps.” 

 

“You’re not sure about the different paths though.”

 

She was clear. “I’m not.”

 

“Or the implications for repercussions when we change things.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Buffy mirrored her clarity. “We’ll think of a plan and go.” 

 

“Now?” Dawn was ready to plan and go. Since she’d been waiting for Buffy to decide, she felt like she’d been holding her breath. Just a little longer now.

 

“Now.”

 

“We’re going to convince Spike that we love him.” Dawn’s vision blurred with tears.

 

Buffy pulled her into another bear hug. “We are. Even if we destroy the space-time continuum.” 

 

Dawn giggled nervously. “We’ll try not to change anything big.”

 

Buffy’s voice was muffled a bit by the perch of her chin on Dawn’s shoulder. “Yep. All with the timeline preservation.”


	2. Tossed into the Past - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much from both of us for your lovely words of encouragement so far and for reading/enjoying the art! 
> 
> So, I originally had both Buffy and Dawn parts in each chapter, but they started to get really long, so they'll be divided into two parts for ease of reading. First up is Buffy!

_Buffy_

 

When the combination of Dawn’s spell and her magical abilities took hold of Buffy, she had to slam her eyes closed because the brilliance of the light seared her eyes. Red filled her vision, and the sharp scent of cinnamon burned her nostrils so that she was forced to hold her breath. A sharp tug in her gut made her gasp. 

 

As her physical body dropped to the ground, her very being tore loose and hurtled without safety measures through what felt like a tiny doorway. It was like she was being folded and funneled through the eye of a needle that was almost too small. Before she could wrap her mind around this, the sensation of flying through space without a tether ceased with abruptness, and she reattached to a body – a familiar body. 

 

Her sense of touch came back first, and her fingers fumbled over cool, rough stone. Then, there was the scent of. . . something familiar, but its identification was just outside of her reach. She heard singing next, and the voice was so familiar that tears filled her eyes. 

 

Eyes. 

 

She blinked back the liquid marring her vision and saw. . . him.

 

He was singing to her about something. She frowned, her eyebrows going together slightly.

 

She was in his crypt – the crypt in Sunnydale, and this was the song that the spell made him sing. When she’d heard the song before, she’d been too consumed in her own feelings to really notice the very real pain in his blue eyes – oh, his eyes were full of emotion so palpable she could almost touch it. 

 

Hope made her heart beat faster. 

 

She’d made it. She was back in time. 

 

She was back in time! 

 

The gravity of this hit her like a ton of bricks, which paved the way for a wave of utter hopelessness to almost overcome her. She staggered a bit with the weight of the despair that pressed down on her shoulders and scraped over her heart like the sharp edge of a shard of glass. But she somehow managed to hold her head high, to focus on the dance of the notes of his melody and the intensity of his anger and. . . hurt as he flung open the door to the dark of night’s embrace. 

 

Buffy clung to the edge of pain in his voice as he walked side by side with her through the graveyard, staring deep into her eyes as he sang of the complexity of his love for her. Something in the darkness of his blue eyes helped her claw her way past the hubris of her emotions of old and realize that she was not the same woman as past-Buffy. So much had happened – good and bad between her past and her present. . . or was it future? 

 

She didn’t care about the answer. Not at all. 

 

He was here now, singing about how much he loved her and how his heart might break his chest. She was confused. Had he sung that before? She had no idea. But oh god, he was hurting – his heart was hurting. She could see it so clearly – could hear the anguish in his voice. 

 

Her own feelings threatened to overwhelm her again, and this time, she wasn’t sure which they were – ghosts of the past or her pain from the future at losing him again. She couldn’t lose him. She just couldn’t.

 

When his voice dropped as he sang that he could tell she was not impressed, she frowned. Oh, but she was impressed by him: this seeming monster loving her – this man who would do such great things, who would save the world, who would save her in the quiet moments again and again when she felt so alone. 

 

She couldn’t stop herself then. 

 

She launched herself into him so that he staggered backward in surprise, one arm going back to brace himself on the headstone behind him. Pushing her fingers into his slicked-back hair and loosening the soft pieces at the base of his skull, she pulled his head down to hers and brought her mouth to his. She felt him hesitate in surprise, but he didn’t push her away or move back. Instead, he gathered her close. She didn’t remember him being quite so thin. 

 

She forgot all random thoughts when for the first time in what felt like an eternity, his cool lips touched hers, moving with hers. The familiar dance was easy – just as easy as when they’d kissed time and time again the year she’d come back from heaven. This Spike, of course, only remembered the passion when they were under Willow’s will-be-done spell. Buffy remembered far more, but now, she relished the affection in a different way, focusing entirely on the sensation and infusing her movements with the heat of long-lost hunger and love and sorrow. 

 

Buffy didn’t even realize she was crying until he drew back, his eyes filled with confusion and concern. His thumb brushed over her cheek, catching another tear that cascaded down. Her breath hitched in her chest.

 

“Oh, pet, what’s wrong?” Spike whispered, not a trace of the resentment or hurt in his tone. He was here with her, and she almost didn’t know if she could keep breathing if he continued staring at her like that. 

 

She blinked, letting her eyes stay shut just a fraction longer than usual, and then, opened them to find that he was still standing before her – whole and solid and not burning up from within to save the world. She hiccupped to punctuate the reality and leaned her head into his touch. “N-nothing.”

 

“Is it the song? Don’t listen to that. I didn’t mean a word of it. It – it’s the spell. Something’s going on, and we have to suss it out. It’s why you kissed me, eh? People doing all kinds of unusual things.”

 

Buffy laughed as something that she shouldn’t remember at all flew up from her memory. “The Chirago demon sounding like that crazy amazing soprano lady?” Back then, she had found herself looking the singer up after they’d defeated Sweet; she’d been trying to keep busy to sidestep thinking about their kiss, but her attempts to distract herself had only led her right back to him. 

 

He chuckled, and the memory of how his laugh sounded when she rested her head on his chest almost made her tear up again. “Didn’t think you’d know who the bird was.”

 

“Buffy has layers.” She sniffed and wiped her other eye with the back of her fingers. “Give me a little credit.”

 

“Already knew you were smart. Despite your choice of friends.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, and she knew he was teasing – sort of.

 

“Hey!” The easy camaraderie reminded Buffy of the last half of the last year they were together when things had been on their way to good between them. 

 

He grinned and then sobered. “Tell me then. What’s with the waterworks?”

 

He was avoiding the kiss – a contrast to the desperate Spike who had chased her through the cemetery demanding to talk with her about what their first kisses meant. Was it because he could tell the difference in her response to him? A change already. Was it too much too soon? Her heart skipped a beat, and she fell back into old habits and evaded like he was doing. “Nothing.”

 

“It’s not nothing,” he insisted, and he pushed just a little in the way he had the night her friends had brought her back. “All the singing reminding you of the peaceful place? Your heaven?”

 

“No!” The word came out harsher than she expected. Sweet’s spell wasn’t at all like. . . where she’d been. “I-I mean. No.” She bit the inside of her cheek. Should she explain? “It’s just your song.” Apparently, she should. She forced herself to look him in the eyes. “You’re not ‘dead to me.’ And what I’ve shared with you. . . i-it’s not a game to me.” If she was honest with herself, it had never been a game to her; she’d never been a game-playing-kind-of-gal in relationships. 

 

He tilted his head in the way that made her body ache with desire. “What is it then?” The edge of hope in his tone gave her pause. 

 

She took a deep breath. She and Dawn promised they wouldn’t change too much. She hated saying the next words. “I-I don’t know.”

 

“Oh.” He disentangled himself from her and moved away, ducking his head, no doubt to hide his feelings. “Best scurry on then.” 

 

She felt naked, and her chest tightened with her own hurt, her arms hanging helplessly at her sides. Anger flared in her. She was stronger now than she was then, so she met his self-protective push with a softer push-back than before. “That’s not fair, you know.”

 

Surprise flitted across his features. “What isn’t?”

 

“It’s a lot of pressure on me for things to mean something. I mean, I don’t even know which way is up sometimes. I feel. . . I feel like I’m in a fog. And just because I haven’t told my friends about. . .” Her vision blurred. Why was she crying about this now? It happened so long ago. She should be over it. 

 

“Where you really were?” He was farther away from her, and she could tell he wanted to cross the gulf because he leaned toward her.

 

She forced away the tears and lifted her head. “Just because I haven’t told them I was in heaven doesn’t mean that me telling you means nothing. That’s, that’s. . . illogical.” 

 

“And the kiss?” His tone was completely casual, but there was an edge of tenderness and that pesky hope again. 

 

She borrowed her words from before. “Was real. Because you’re real. To me.” 

 

Spike’s mouth dropped open, and she decided that she’d completely shocked him. Spike was rarely rendered speechless. 

 

She held up a hand. “But that doesn’t mean I know what the kiss means for. . . the two of us. I need you to respect that I’m not in a space to know.” But she did know. She knew that she loved him. Part of her wanted him to know, but it was too soon. She had to wait for a later time whether it came through a continuous passage or through a bounce in time – a skip closer to the present. . . future. Her head pounded in trying to figure the time travel out. 

 

His shoulders straightened, his defensive swagger gone. He was just himself. “I can respect that.”

 

Go, Buffy, all with the boundaries. “Good. Thank you.” Then, her sister flew into her mind, and her eyes rounded. Oh, my god! Adrenaline resurged in her. What was the timeline? What did she need to do next? 

 

“What? What is it, pet?” Spike sounded worried. 

 

“I-I promised Giles I’d meet him for sparring!”

 

Spike frowned. “I’m sure Rupert can wait a few more minutes.”

 

She almost blurted, “But Dawn’s in trouble at the Bronze with the singing demon who wants to take her to hell with him! I have to go tell him that Xander was the one who summoned him!” But, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “I just have this feeling that I’m disappointing him a lot lately.”

 

“You need to tell them the truth.” 

 

She met his gaze and smiled, hugging her arms around her ribcage to stop herself from taking his hand in hers. “I will. Come with?”

 

A grin spread across his face for the second time that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buffy is a bit confused by the ride, so her feelings are all over the place. (I think I edited it to death...haha.) As she adjusts to the shift, the story will change as well. 
> 
> I just love how Badwolfjedi captured the mood of this part so well!


	3. Tossed into the Past - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the kind notes for the last chapter - for both art and story! Here is Dawn's jump. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> And y'all!! The bottom right corner of the mood board. Omg... The whole thing is beautiful but that image makes my heart ache.

 

_Dawn_

 

The sensation of time traveling was a little different than before. For one, Dawn had had to expend a much larger portion of her own internal resources to catapult Buffy and herself back so far. 

 

Coming back into her body now left her heavy with immense exhaustion. She’d also felt herself waver in her aim; she never knew exactly how to choose her target. So, she’d blindly adjusted mid-spell to hopefully avoid dinosaurs or the Middle Ages or even a time before when she was an amorphous ball of non-sentient energy and not a human girl 

 

When her senses came back around, she found herself gripping the edge of her dresser with both hands, her miniature Etch-a-Sketch bright red and staring at her next to her open jewelry box. She didn’t remember the old toy being there, and an irrational part of her longed to snatch it up to take with her before the potential Slayers could borrow it and then lose it somewhere in the house.

 

The emotions came next as expected, and Dawn found herself with a hollow pit of loneliness in her belly. She wondered if she was invisible. She wondered if anyone saw the pain that she was in – had been in since her mother died, pain that had only intensified since Buffy sacrificed herself. 

 

And the Buffy now? She wasn’t even really there, and Dawn needed someone – anyone – to notice how lost she felt in her isolation and how fearful she was of abandonment. Where was Spike? He’d at least been her touchstone all summer, keeping her company when she missed Buffy, making her eat something, wiping her tears away. Buffy came back, and he just disappeared. What was that about?

 

The song lyric that spilled past her lips was the same as before, and she felt the weight of each word on her heart, and at the last moment, her future brain remembered that she needed to put on one particular necklace from her box. 

 

The metal clasp was cold against her fingertips, and she fastened the heavy pendant around her neck, adjusting it as she had before. Picking up the tiny Etch-a-Sketch, she heard the light step of the first henchman behind her. The scream that hurtled out of her mouth was piercing and loud, and her vision was filled with big creepy-looking bobbleheads before they flung the smelly wool blanket over her head and grabbed her up. 

 

As she was borne away by the eerily silent and somehow scary-fast minions, she was tugged back to the reality of who she was by the itchiness of the material and the jarring run-walk of the minions. She was so going to be sore tomorrow. Last time she’d been kidnapped by these marionette guys, she had fainted and hadn’t remembered anything until she woke on the pool table at the Bronze. 

 

This time, Dawn was wide awake and planned what she had to do as soon as they reached their destination. She hoped her actions would work to stop the spell without anyone else burning up. Would that change the timeline too much? She had no idea. She did have high hopes that her sister and the rest of everyone would show up if she needed the backup. 

 

Dawn could tell when they finally reached the Bronze because of the rush of cool air from the air conditioning. She made herself hang limply but still clutched the small red toy, and the minions set her down with reverence, whisking away the blanket. 

 

Within moments, music began to play a quirky, ominous melody that swirled around her like a song played by a snake charmer. Before she could think, Dawn felt her limbs come to life almost of their own accord. She’d forgotten about this loss of control over her own body; maybe she’d blocked it out. 

 

Her body swung off the table, following the lure of the notes. She twirled and danced and leaped and was casually passed back and forth between the faux men as if she were the puppet and not them. 

 

When the song ended and a minion flung her across the smooth Bronze floor, she landed at the feet of the scarlet-colored demon. Peering up at him with confidence, she smiled. She wasn’t the same girl she was back then. 

 

“What mischief are you up to?” Sweet asked, lowering his raised foot so that the tap shoe clicked. The music faded away. He didn’t start his number. Instead, he leaned forward, running his hand over his chin with egotistical flare. 

 

Eyes flashing, Dawn jerked off the necklace, the metal digging into her neck before the chain snapped. Letting the pendant hit the ground, she grasped the Etch-a-Sketch tightly in her hand and brought it down to smash over and over on the stone. To her surprise, the material shattered (as did the plastic toy). Was the necklace made of . . . glass?

 

Sweet chuckled. “Oh, that’s cute. You think by breaking my talisman, you can get out of the agreement you made when you summoned me?”

 

Oh, crap. “Um, yeah?” Confidence, what confidence?

 

He smirked. “Hate to disappoint, young lady, but that bauble that you so successfully destroyed? It’s just a trinket. Very little magic there. The magic comes from the spell that you cast.”

 

Stupid Xander casting stupid spells that led to badness. “Oh.” Dawn swallowed and pulled out her trump card. “My sister’s the Slayer?” So, the words were a little sing-song-y. She couldn’t help herself.

 

“The Slayer?”

 

“Uh huh.” Come on, Buffy. The Buffy now might not be her Buffy, but she knew one thing: her sister loved her no matter when in the timeline they were. 

 

Sweet straightened with a haughtiness that made Dawn want to hurl and pointed at one of the lounging minions. “Go. Fetch the Slayer. Bring her here.”

 

As the minion scrambled to his feet, the door to the Bronze crashed inward, wooden shards flying everywhere. The heavy door clattered to the ground, and Buffy stepped into the club. Dawn thought she remembered her sister wearing something different in the past – a red shirt? Her hair had been down, and now it was up in a low bun, and her outfit was entirely different. White blouse, skirt, leather coat, boots. 

 

But Buffy’s clothes lost all of Dawn’s attention when she saw the other person with her sister.

 

Spike. He was here with Buffy. Dawn’s heart pounded, and she wanted to hug him and yell at him in quick succession. How could he not tell them that he was un-dusty? She understood why he hadn’t reached out to her, but Buffy? Why not Buffy? 

 

Wait. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Spike wasn’t supposed to be here with Buffy. Something dawned on Dawn, and she blurted, “Cocoon!” before she could stop herself.

 

Buffy grinned at her sister. “Butterfly.”

 

Oh, my god. That was their first signal. This was her sister! Dawn waved with a little too much enthusiasm for the situation. “Hi, Buffy.”

 

“Hey!” Her sister stared at her as if trying to figure something out, and Dawn noticed that she wasn’t wearing the gown that Sweet had put her in before. Thank god. That thing was hideous – like a prom dress had a baby with a bridesmaid gown.

 

“Welcome, Slayer,” the devilish demon interrupted, his eyes glinting as he adjusted his suit jacket with both hands. “You’re just in time.”

 

“Just in time for what?” Buffy said with extra energy, sounding disconcertingly like the Buffybot. 

 

Dawn noticed that Spike gave her sister a funny look. Uh oh. Dawn found her voice. “Um, well, I smashed his talisman, but it did diddly.”

 

The corner of Buffy’s mouth lifted, and she shrugged. “You tried. ‘A’ for effort.”

 

Dawn smiled back. “Thanks. That’s better than my grade in math.” Where had that come from? 

 

Arms crossed, Buffy addressed the demon. “And I’m not gonna sing. Or dance. Not again. So, don’t even bother trying to make me.”

 

Sweet threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t make anyone do anything; I just encourage. Nudge. Besides, we’re waiting for your audience.”

 

“My audience. . . ?” 

 

Xander burst through the open door, a little out of breath, followed by Willow, Giles, Anya, and Tara. Dawn noticed that both Tara and Giles seemed particularly sad around the eyes. When Dawn thought about what was to come, her heart ached, and her eyes misted over. Tara was alive; Anya was alive! Dawn resisted a second wave of urgency to run to her friends. 

 

“’Bout time you lot showed up,” Spike muttered with a tinge of tight anger that Dawn didn’t understand. 

 

Sweet rolled his arm and hand down so that his fingers pointed at the arriving crew, and then, he crooked his index finger. Almost as if entranced, the group moved closer. “Your audience,” he supplied. 

 

As Dawn stared at her sister, she saw Buffy’s face shift and soften and saw the wave of pain crashing over her features. But when Buffy opened her mouth, she didn’t sing as Dawn expected. Instead, her sister spoke quietly and with absolute seriousness. “You should all know that I’ve been hiding something.”

 

Dawn snuck a glance at Sweet whose face was distorted with confusion and seething anger. His little plan was being foiled. No musical notes even deigned to grace the air.

 

“What, Buffy?” Willow asked, the worry line between her eyes creasing.

 

“It’s the reason I’ve been acting funny. I-I wasn’t in hell like you assumed.” 

 

“Assumptions make an ass out of me and you.” Dawn’s words were a soft support in the background. That was similar. 

 

Spike drew closer to Buffy then, and she smiled at him briefly before turning back to her friends. “I was in heaven. . . a form of heaven. I-I think. . . I don’t really know.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Though she wasn’t singing, dancing, or combusting this time, the hurting was very real by the look on her face. “All I know was that I was at peace.” Tears slipped down her cheeks despite her poise. When she spoke again, her words quavered. “And being here? It hurts a lot. Beyond what words can describe. I feel like. . .” Dawn saw her sister find resolve in holding Spike’s gaze with her own – this time a bit longer. “Like this place. Earth.” Buffy glanced back at her friends, her volume going softer. “I-it’s like hell.” 

 

“Buffy. Oh, my god,” Tara breathed, her stricken face peeking out from behind her curtain of hair. 

 

“Buffy, we didn’t know.” Xander was rooted to the spot, but Dawn could tell by the way he swayed in place that he wanted to rush forward and embrace Buffy. Dawn secretly hoped he wouldn’t. Not yet. They couldn’t hug this away.

 

Willow sank to her knees and sobbed, her crumpled face falling into her hands. 

 

Her voice heavy with pain, Buffy addressed Sweet with a little edge as if she didn’t give a crap that he was still there. “And, Dawn didn’t summon you, so you won’t be taking her to your version of hell with you.”

 

Xander raised his hand – the one body part he seemed to be able to set into motion. “I did it. I summoned the dancing demon guy.”

 

Anya’s mouth dropped open. “Alexander Harris!” 

 

“I-I guess I thought it would make people happy.”

 

“Well, our little number did not make me happy!” Anya glared as she tried to cross her arms but ended up holding her upper arms and looking vulnerable. 

 

Then, the Scoobies were all talking at once, arguing with one another as their voices echoed in the empty space of the Bronze. Dawn couldn’t make out any of the words because her heart was pulsing in her ears as she finally let herself run forward and hug Anya and then Tara followed by Spike in quick succession. Anya pushed Dawn away in annoyance, but Tara embraced her back as if she too needed a bit of affection. Spike made a small noise of surprise at the tightness of Dawn’s arms around him. 

 

He held her tightly, his voice deep over her head. “What’s this, lil Bit?”

 

Too many thoughts that Dawn couldn’t say raced around in her head, and she desperately plucked out the thought that made sense. “I was scared.” Scared she’d never see him again, scared that he would hate her for being mad at him, scared that he’d never know how much she appreciated everything he’d done for her. 

 

Spike stroked the back of her head. “You’re all right, pidge.” He was all with the nicknames when he was comforting her. “Look here. The singing demon and his minions have skipped town. Snuck off like right cowards.” 

 

Dawn gave the room a quick scan. Without even a coda, Sweet was gone, taking his creepy puppet guys with him. “Oh.”

 

“Don’t even sense ‘em at all.” 

 

She smiled up at him and then gave him another hug. “Good.”

 

Wiping the tears off her cheeks, Buffy sidled up then, having obviously given Dawn her moment with Spike. “Shall we?”

 

Dawn drew back from Spike. “Shall we what?”

 

“Go home.” Buffy smiled at her and then briefly stroked Spike’s upper arm. “Walk us home?”

 

Spike stared at Buffy like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “All right.”

 

Buffy cleared her throat, and Dawn saw how tired she really was. “Guys.” The room was suddenly quiet as all eyes turned Buffy’s direction, so she continued, “Dawn and I are really exhausted, and I need some time with her. We’re going home.” 

 

Giles was closest, and he touched Buffy’s shoulder gently, his face kind. “I understand completely.” His eyes grew fierce beyond the sadness that lingered. “It seems the rest of us will need time to discuss things. You rest. I’ll see you both soon? If you need anything, call. We’ll be at my flat.”

 

Dawn saw Buffy’s eyes sheen with tears. “O-okay.” She paused and then added, “Thank you.”

 

Ignoring the devastation of the others, Dawn, Buffy, and Spike regarded one another and left the Bronze together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, you will have to indulge me in one of my fave trope-y Spike, Buffy and Dawn scenes. (I think I've written more than one of these but oh, I love them! And this one has a slightly different flavor!) 
> 
> PS I have no idea if a mini-Etch-a-Sketch could break glass but there it was on Dawn's dresser in my rewatch. lol Dawn improvised!


	4. The Chips are Down - Buffy

_Buffy_

 

Buffy, Dawn, and Spike didn’t speak on the journey to the Summers house. As they rounded the corner on Revello Drive, Dawn reached over and looped her arm around Buffy’s. Buffy gave her a relieved smile. They were in this together, and she wasn’t flung back in time with no one who understood.

 

Buffy glanced at Spike to see that he was watching them with an unreadable expression on his face. She frowned just slightly, and after only a moment’s hesitation, she held out her left arm to him. 

 

His eyebrows drew momentarily together, but he moved closer to her with wariness painted over his features. 

 

Without thinking too much, she slipped her hand in his, her fingertips skimming over his cool, dry palm before pushing between his fingers so that their hands were twined together. She folded her fingers over his hand so that he was forced to clasp back, and she squeezed ever so slightly, gentle waves of desire flowing over her body. They’d gotten here before he perished. . . here but no further, and she wished suddenly that she’d pushed for more their last night together. But she hadn’t, and he hadn’t. Instead, they’d slept like two exhausted cats, their limbs woven together, the touch comforting and chaste and needed. They’d borrowed each other’s strength all year, and that one night, they’d shared in equal measure – the time a culmination of all that had gone before. She loved him with her actions and thought he knew, but he hadn’t – not really. Maybe it was because he still didn’t believe he deserved her.

 

Even now, Spike started to let go, but Slayer strength came in handy, and she pulled him closer, hugging her arm around his until he was at her side. 

 

“Hey,” she said softly. 

 

“Hey yourself, Slayer.” His tone was tender, and she wondered what might have been different if she’d shown him such kindness before. Would he have been so defensive, prickly, and bitter toward her? 

 

She forced herself to look toward her house. The front porch light was on, beckoning them home. God, she missed this house even with its creaky bones and broken hearts. “Thank you.”

 

“What for?” He sounded genuinely confused. 

 

“For being with me when I told them.” Buffy smiled at her sister and cuddled her arm. “Thanks to both of you.” 

 

“It’s what sisters are for,” Dawn said, sounding way older than the Dawn-from-the-past, and Buffy could tell Dawn knew it because she stumbled out with, “I-I didn’t know you were somewhere like heaven.”

 

Buffy bit her lip. Why hadn’t they ever talked about it back then? She’d made her big revelation, and then, everyone, including her, pretended she’d never said it. They’d whispered about it behind her back but not once had they discussed it directly with her. “We should talk about it.” She studied her sister’s much younger face. Funny how a few years changed so much; her cheeks were softer – her eyes more innocent. “I want to know how it impacted you.” 

 

“What impacted me?” 

 

“My death,” Buffy clarified, and this time, she felt Spike’s hand tighten around hers, the pressure comforting. And was there some emotion behind the gesture? She never thought to ask about his feelings about the topic of her demise, and by now, she knew his emotions were real even though she denied that they were then. “But first, can we relax?”

 

“Of course!” Dawn’s eyes lit up. “Hot chocolate and cookies?”

 

“Spike?” Buffy asked, trying not to sound too eager.

 

Spike was looking down his nose at her sister. “Not the banana peanut butter ones.”

 

Dawn’s face was full of mock horror. “Oh, god. No. I kept – keep trying to make that combo work, and it just really doesn’t.” She put her finger to her lip and fixed her second slip with, “Maybe keeping them in the past is of the good.”

 

“Well, bananas and peanut butter do sound good together in theory,” Spike reassured her. “After all, the King liked the fried sandwiches.” Buffy gazed at him with question marks in her expression, and he added, “Elvis.”

 

“We just never got the banana-peanut-butter ratio right.” 

 

“They were always mushy and made the house reek,” Spike said, knocking down her positive spin. 

 

“Then, Xander would gag and make these horrified faces when he came inside.” 

 

“Which was rather amusing.” Dawn and Buffy both gave Spike a look, and he shrugged. “Had to get my jollies somewhere. There weren’t too many things that amused me last summer.” He took a step up on the front porch steps when he reached them first.

 

Dawn wrinkled her nose and trailed back from Buffy, who followed Spike onto the porch. “The cookies were disgustingly mushy. Definitely smelly.”

 

Warmth spread through Buffy’s chest. “Did you guys make cookies together often?”

 

“Only when the Nibblet forced me to.” Spike sounded indignant.

 

“I never forced you,” Dawn protested, planting one hand on her hip and pointing a finger at him. “You offered to do anything to make me ‘crack a smile’ or show you ‘my pearly whites.’” 

 

He rolled his eyes upward, shoving his own hands in his duster pockets. “S’ppose you could’ve come up with something much worse.”

 

Totally at ease between the bantering pair, Buffy rooted in her jacket pocket for the keys, and she considered that she never really saw how close Spike and her sister were – never really understood the depth of their connection and why it came to be. 

 

Finding her key, she unlocked the front door and swung it open. She was suddenly very glad that Willow and Tara weren’t home. Mostly so she could keep her eyes on Spike, Buffy held the door as her companions trailed inside still chattering about what her sister could have requested of him. 

 

After Buffy shut and locked the door, she shrugged off her coat and hooked it onto the rack. Then, she held out a hand to Spike. He regarded the proffered appendage with curiosity and then realized what she meant and sloughed off his own coat, allowing her to hang it up next to hers. For some reason, his black t-shirt with the red button-down casually thrown over it made her want to circle her arms around his waist and hold him close. She longed to feel how solid he was, to inhale his scent. But she couldn’t do that lest she possibly ruptured the timeline completely, so she held back. 

 

Still, she couldn’t resist smiling and intentionally brushing her arm against his as she passed him. He hesitated but returned her smile. She turned to walk backward as she went through the dining area toward the kitchen.

 

“Just so you both know. I’m going to sit on one of those.” Buffy indicated one of the stools by the kitchen island bar. “And I’m gonna wait for you to. . .” Her trail off meant she didn’t know exactly how to ask for what she needed. Still. 

 

Dawn headed for the fridge and tugged out the stool as she breezed by. “Sit. Spike? Chocolate and other things from the cabinets?”

 

“On it.” 

 

Buffy slid onto her self-designated seat at the island, observing everything with amusement. To her surprise, Spike knew where everything was from the good chocolate that they used for drinking to the pots, cookie sheets, mixing bowls, and utensils. It was also obvious that the pair had cooked together several times before because they moved around the kitchen and each other with efficiency, hardly missing a beat as they mixed ingredients and prepped the oven. Spike, for his part, growled at Dawn a time or two when she was being goofy or distracting him while he was doing something important like measuring out just the right amount of chocolate chips for the cookies. 

 

“Dawn always wants more chocolate than needed and is feasible,” Buffy said, unable to stop herself from smiling as Spike gritted his teeth, which only made his cheekbones stand out more. 

 

“Drives me bleeding crazy.” He addressed Dawn with both eyebrows raised and his hands on his hips, “Do you want completely quaggy cookies or the sort with crispy edges?”

 

A reprimanded Dawn twisted her mouth to one side, her eyes heavy with dramatic guilt. “Crispy.”

 

“That’s what I thought.” He made a big show of scooping out the excess chocolate chips with a clean spoon and dumping them on the counter so they formed a relatively stable pile. A chip or three flew over the edge, but Spike ignored them. “The recipe calls for two cups. Not three.” As if daring her to challenge him, he fiercely stared at Dawn’s big doe eyes and now innocent expression. Buffy saw that his eyes were sparkling with. . . was that happiness underneath that glare? 

 

Dawn squatted to the floor, picked up a singular chocolate chip, and threw it at his face where it landed underneath his right eye and pinged away. He blinked in surprise, his mouth falling open.

 

A little more than a second or two passed.

 

And then, with more speed than humanly possible, he ducked and rid the floor of the remaining chips, which he pelted at a squealing Dawn, who snatched more chips from the heap Spike had set aside. She dipped behind Buffy. 

 

Buffy crossed her arms. “Um, I didn’t sign up to be the human shield, Dawnie.”

 

“Too bad!” Dawn said, dodging Spike’s well-aimed throw and backing behind the island by the sink. “You should join in. Team up with me against the vamp.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes but slipped off the stool to wedge herself in front of Spike, her heart already hammering at how close he was. She saw a challenge for her in his azure eyes, something she hadn’t seen since he went to earn his soul, and she knew the potential for angry-mixed-with-hurt pushback was alive and well within him. There were too many factors tied up in whether and how she responded to his dare, so she broke eye contact first, darting around him toward the open pantry to snag an unopened bag of chocolate chips. 

 

She whirled back around with a beam on her face. “Ha! Now, who’s got all the chips?”

 

Spike growled at her and swiped at the bag, which she jerked away. 

 

Dawn threw her arms in the air in triumph. “Yay!” 

 

Buffy grinned at her sister, and in seconds, they spread out and were showering the poor vampire in tiny chocolate bullets. Spike, for his part, gave them a run for their money, pulling a large skillet out of the cabinet to bounce away errant chips and attempting to hunch behind the island while scooting back around to get the girls from behind. Laughter zinged through the air like the bits of chocolate.

 

The kitchen was really a small space though, and the battle could only go so long before someone surrendered. Plus, chocolate chips eventually got melt-y.

 

Panting, Dawn leaned back with both hands on the sink when she ran out of chips. “I’m out.” She laughed and coughed. “I’m out.” Still smiling, she swiped at the blob of melted chocolate on her face, only succeeding in smearing the substance more. 

 

As always with Dawn, Buffy immediately went into alarm mode – though it was semi-alarm mode this time. “You okay?” 

 

Dawn made a face at her. “Of course. Don’t go all helicopter-mom on me. They’re just chocolate chips.” She gestured at Buffy and Spike. “Besides, you two look way worse than me.” 

 

Buffy peered at Spike who was hovering near the back door, looking like he might want to bolt if she reacted like she usually did when he was in the house. Dawn was right. He was covered in chocolate. When she looked down at herself, she realized she was coated, too. She playfully scoffed and ran a chocolate-covered hand through the blonde strands that had come loose from her bun. “Oh, this? This is nothing.”

 

Spike visibly relaxed at her words. “Still want to bake cookies, Bit?”

 

“Of course! Looks like we somehow totally didn’t do any damage to our prep work.” Dawn washed her hands and turned on the oven. “Spike? Mix in the chips and let’s get cracking.”

 

“Bossy bint,” he teased, joining Buffy at the sink where she squirted some hand soap into his palm. He coated his hands and flicked on the faucet. 

 

Buffy copied his movements with the soap, nudging her hands into his as he lathered up in the stream of water. Her whole body came to life when his skin touched hers, and as they rinsed together, he paused and rubbed a clean thumb over a bit of chocolate that she’d missed on the inside of her wrist. 

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, a sudden wave of past sadness mingled with future grief almost overcoming her. 

 

“We’re going to make cookies,” he said with the same powerful determination she remembered. 

 

She blinked away tears she barely realized were there, and she nodded. “We are.”

 

“Don’t forget the hot chocolate,” Dawn reminded them from across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed my trope-y Spike/Dawn/Buffy food fight with a different flavor...no pun intended. And oh, I always imagined that Dawn and Spike did lots of things together in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep the summer Buffy was gone.
> 
> Isn't the mood board stunning? *hugs* to Badwolfjedi!


	5. The Chips are Down - Dawn

_Dawn_

 

The night was perfect. 

 

The cookies came out slightly soft in the center with perfectly melted chips, and the hot chocolate with marshmallows went perfectly with the chocolate-y cookies. 

 

It was a whole lot of perfect, chocolate, yummy goodness.

 

But the best part of all was doing the baking with Spike and her sister. Dawn secretly relished every moment, knowing that after Buffy came back before, there had never been a cookie-baking evening with the vampire again. Baking with him after Buffy’s resurrection had a decidedly happier connotation despite being colored by knowing the future. Dawn stubbornly shoved those thoughts away. 

 

Eating and drinking around the kitchen island together was something Dawn cherished, and she found herself reminiscing with Spike about more of their evenings in the house together while Buffy was gone. He smiled at them both and even laughed when Buffy got all worked up about his view of school. Being together was so easy when Dawn and her sister invited Spike in. 

 

At Dawn’s urging, Spike even stayed long enough to help clean up the kitchen, and she assigned dish scrubbing duty to him and her sister. She’d seen the way they’d touched and gazed at one another while washing their hands, so giving her sister another shot at it seemed the way to go. 

 

When the time finally came for him to head back to the crypt, Dawn and Buffy walked him to the front door. Letting herself give in to the complicated emotions she’d steadfastly been ignoring, Dawn threw her arms around him and hugged him for the second time in what felt like forever. 

 

Spike embraced her without reservation. “Twice in one night, eh?”

 

“A ‘thank you’ for staying.”

 

His voice was quiet. “You don’t need to thank me.” 

 

But Dawn knew that she did; she’d never told him before. “Come over again. Just because Buffy’s back doesn’t mean you have to disappear.” God, she sounded so. . . young and needy. 

 

“If big sis wants me over, I’ll come.” 

 

Dawn heard the tinge of uncertainty and drew away so that they were both staring at Buffy, who still looked disheveled from the chocolate war. Unlike in the past, Dawn saw the war of emotions on her sister’s face, so she took her hand and faced Spike with her.

 

“She says, ‘Yes, come over, Spike.’” She elbowed Buffy. “Right?”

 

Buffy nodded, her lips pressed together, and Dawn knew she was trying not to cry. Dawn also knew Spike was short-tempered and impatient, but when it came to the Summers women, he had a soft touch. She’d seen it the first time he came over when Buffy finally told their mom that she was the Slayer. He’d treated Dawn like an equal even though she’d only been eleven and wore her bunny pajamas and slippers. Somehow, he’d noticed that she had something of the Summers strength inside her, and he’d told her not to worry because he’d be helping her sister.

 

Spike was silent for a long moment. “How about this? How about I stop by tomorrow night and visit with the lil Bit here? Then, when she’s ready for her head to hit the pillow, we go patrolling – you and me.” There was so much hope and patience in his eyes when he said, “Just patrol. I promise.” 

 

Buffy bit her lip. “I’d like that. We could talk like I promised.” At Spike’s confused expression, she added, “Before the Great Chocolate Chip Battle.”

 

“Great. It’s all settled then,” Dawn said brightly. 

 

“But we do need someone to watch Dawn.” 

 

“Hey! I’m almost eig. . . er, sixteen. And unlike someone here, I’m a decent driver if I need to get somewhere.” Nowadays, Dawn was often the one driving them different places in different cities in different countries all over the world, especially if Buffy had to be on the phone with Giles or Willow or Xander.

 

Spike was studying Dawn fumble and rescued her for probably a very different reason than what was in her head. “Taught her myself. Well, Tara and me. This past summer.”

 

Dawn smiled. Almost running over curbs and backing into trees and other. . . objects were a definite distraction from thinking about being alone without her mom and sister. “Spike is really funny when he puts the faux brakes on. There were times I thought he might have a conniption.”

 

Spike crossed his arms. “Only because you almost killed us.”

 

Dawn matched him, loving every second. “Only because you weren’t wearing your seatbelt.”

 

“Vampires don’t need to wear seatbelts.” Both Spike’s eyebrows were raised and his jaw set.

 

“Yes. They do. Ride in my car. Wear a seatbelt.”

 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

 

“You never told me Spike and Tara taught you to drive,” Buffy said offhandedly.

 

Dawn lifted one shoulder. “Never thought to tell you, and you never asked.”

 

“Hey now, Bit.” Spike touched her disgruntled shoulder. “You shared a lot tonight. There’ll be time for more telling.” 

 

Buffy intervened. “You’ll both tell me. Apparently, there’s a lot to share, and I’ve got nothing but time. Speaking of time – ” A big yawn interrupted her sentence. 

 

Spike took his cue and opened the door while snagging his coat. He turned back to them from the porch. “I’ll see the two of you tomorrow?” 

 

“Yes,” Dawn said firmly. She caught her sister looking waver-y and knew what she wanted. Instead of encouraging Buffy, she redirected. “Spike, it’s okay to give Buffy a hug. I’m not going to freak out or anything.”

 

Dawn watched Buffy avoid his eyes but launch herself into his arms. Spike emitted a small grunt and then held her close. Both their eyes were then closed, and there was a serenity on Buffy’s face that Dawn hadn’t seen in a long time. Spike’s left hand skimmed over her back in soothing strokes, and Dawn found herself gazing into the night to give them their moment. 

 

When Spike was gone and the front door shut and locked, Buffy wandered over to the sofa and flopped down. Dawn joined her in the collapse with a sigh. 

 

Buffy turned her head toward Dawn. “What’d you think?”

 

“About what?” Dawn folded her hands over her belly.

 

“Did we do too much?” Buffy was quiet for a few seconds. “I mean, did we change too much already? That whole thing didn’t exactly go the way I expected.”

 

Dawn thought for a minute. “Well, the thing with Sweet went pretty much the same, I thought. We just didn’t sing as much, and you didn’t almost catch on fire. But everyone was there. You told them the truth. That’s the same. What I don’t understand is how you convinced everyone to come to the Bronze. The puppet guy didn’t even leave the building.”

 

“That was different. Sorta. When Xander went out to pick up dinner, he ran into a guy from work, who said something big was going down at the Bronze. Scared everyone off. The rest of them sent me to investigate, and Spike came with. I’d have convinced them somehow if it wouldn’t have been for that.”

 

Dawn bit her lower lip. “Interesting. I wonder what else is different, and we just don’t know it.”

 

“Right? Hmmm. I kissed Spike while you were all singing that last song before. Obviously, that didn’t happen.” Buffy’s cheeks pinkened.

 

“You did?” Dawn was surprised but not surprised at the same time. “I didn’t know that.”

 

“I did. And I kissed him tonight but before we rescued you. It was different but still a kiss.” 

 

“Different how?”

 

“Before, the kiss was the start of a lot of badness.” Dawn couldn’t tell what Buffy was feeling. 

 

“Badness why?” She didn’t know much about what went down between her sister and Spike – just that the result was that Spike almost forced himself on her, which left Dawn feeling a weird mix of emotions. Fierce protectiveness of her sister. Anger toward Spike mingled with a sense of further abandonment and betrayal. 

 

“Because after I came back, I felt this overwhelming grief and. . . depression about what had been stripped away. Dawnie, it’s so hard to explain.” Dawn waited for her sister to continue. “There was this,” Buffy curled her free hand over her stomach, “hollowness and ambiguity where before there’d been peace and certainty. It was so. . . overwhelming that I ended up feeling numb. Nothing. Like I was walking through a fog. Spike helped me feel something besides foggy and numb. But he didn’t understand limits.” She pressed her lips together. “Though to be fair, I didn’t set very good ones. I was very mixed-message-y girl and wasn’t kind about it. He wasn’t kind back – though he wanted to be some of the times. I could tell.”

 

When Buffy stared into space, Dawn took her hand. Somehow, that further softened her remaining anger toward the vampire. “Sounds like the numb parts helped you survive. Sounds like Spike helped you survive.” 

 

Buffy gave her a watery smile. “Yeah. I guess so. Until I started to see how I was using him when he loved me so much. Sorta backfired on me in the end there. And on him. Huh. Hadn’t thought about that in a long time. So much has happened between then and now. How’d you get so smart?”

 

“It’s a gift.” She gave a little fake preen and then said softly, “But seriously. I’m sorry that I didn’t get it.”

 

“You didn’t get it because you were going through your own stuff, right? I mean, I didn’t notice the extent of it at the time, but you were.” Buffy’s smile was small but there. “You had too many losses all at once. Your identity, Mom, me. Then, Spike apparently.”

 

Dawn felt like she’d been found out – like when her sister had discovered she’d been shoplifting. Somehow though, she didn’t mind; she felt oddly relieved. “Now who’s the smart one?” 

 

“Huh.” Buffy emitted a little laugh. “Well, that one didn’t take too much figuring once you stole that super expensive leather jacket for my birthday. It was one set of big neon flashing lights.” She held up her hands and moved her fingers in and out. “That and making that wish to the vengeance demon that got us stuck in the house.” 

 

“I was sorta telegraphing it pretty loudly, huh?”

 

“Uh huh. But you had to, right? We were all caught up in ourselves.”

 

“Everyone. You’re right.” Dawn sat up to face Buffy more directly, bringing her legs onto the sofa. “I want to save everyone. Seeing everyone. Especially Tara and Anya. Spike. Knowing how they died.” A ball of emotion caught in her throat, and it took her a moment to say, “This is really hard.” 

 

“That on top of re-experiencing our feelings from before.” Buffy awkwardly struggled to match her sister’s body language until they were both facing one another.

 

“Yeah.” Dawn sagged, remembering the stark loneliness at the time of her jump. “We can’t, can we?”

 

Buffy picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion, avoiding her sister’s eyes. “Save everyone? Fix everything? No. I don’t think so.” 

 

“So, we just have to watch it all happen again?” Her eyes misted over at the thought, and she hugged her elbows. 

 

Buffy smiled ruefully. “Guess we kinda took that one on without thinking about it ahead of time.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here. Makes it a lot easier. Less lonely this time around.”

 

Buffy reached her arms out and held her sister close. “Me, too. Let’s sleep in the same room tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”

 

“Okay. My bed’s comfier. If I’m remembering correctly.” Dawn had slept in Buffy’s bed many times when she was little and many times the summer after she died. Her own bed was unequivocally comfier for a lot of reasons. 

 

Buffy laughed. “Okay.” She drew away, tucking a strand of her sister’s hair behind her ear. 

 

Impulse striking her, Dawn blurted, “When you were gone, I-I sometimes slept in your bed.” The corner of her mouth lifted, but her eyes misted up. “Sometimes I didn’t get out of it until Spike or Tara came and kicked me out.” She ducked her head. “I-it was like there was nothing to look forward to.” A tear escaped and began a slow journey over her cheek. 

 

“Oh, Dawn. I’m so sorry you were hurting so much.” Buffy tugged her into another hug. They clung to one another for several seconds, and then she continued with a teasing lilt, “And I’m very glad you had someone kicking you out of my bed. Is that how you convinced Spike to teach you how to drive?”

 

A watery laugh slipped passed Dawn’s lips, and she shrugged as she moved away from Buffy and leaned against the back of the sofa. “Maybe.”

 

“Good for you.” Buffy bit her lip. “We should talk more about what happens if we skip ahead without one another or at different speeds? We should have more than one signal. We need a way of communicating.” 

 

“Good idea.” 

 

Buffy yawned again and stood. “But first, I want to wash the chocolate out of my hair.” She frowned at the new smears of brown stuff on the sofa. “And apparently, I need to clean the furniture.”

 

“Should we even care about that if the whole place is going to be sucked into a crater in a year-and-a-half? And let’s not forget the stains from Andrew always eating his. . .” Dawn waved a vague hand, unable to come up with a way to describe the monstrous messes he’d made, “elaborate snacks on our sofa.” 

 

“You have no room to talk.” 

 

“Yeah, but still!”

 

Buffy looked like she was considering Dawn’s extremely logical assertions. “Mom would want us to clean the sofa.”

 

Dawn’s chest ached at the thought of her mother. She was glad they hadn’t gone that far back; she didn’t think her heart could take it. “You’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support with this project! We appreciate it so much! heartshug
> 
> Next up, Dawn sees Giles and Tara at the Magic Box and Buffy and Spike go patrolling...


	6. Chapter Four, Creating a Shift - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting with Dawn this time! I just love Dawn and Tara together, so here you go!

_Dawn_

 

Attending school at Sunnydale High had put Dawn in a foul mood. 

 

She thought the day would never end. 

 

She rediscovered that she still hated math, that the chicken fried steak on the lunch tray remained cold and rubbery, and that she didn’t have any friends because people still thought of her as the emo chick who had a breakdown outside of art class when her mom died. Reliving school had most definitely not been on the agenda when she’d thought about time travel.

 

Though time dragged its feet, the many hours of the school day eventually came to an end. Thank god. 

 

Spike came by the house after sunset as he promised. Dawn wished she could spend more time with her sister and Spike like the previous night, but she was secretly looking forward to possibly seeing Tara and even Anya. 

 

The closer they got to the Magic Box, however, the more nervous Dawn became. Almost unconsciously, she was twisting a strand of her undyed dark hair around one finger and fiddling with the adjustable strap on her backpack with the other. One thing she missed was this backpack. It wasn’t super trendy like her clear one or big enough to hold all her books like the one with the expandable pockets, but she loved the color (the same bright blue as her eyes), the hidden compartment in the back, and the padded straps that were comfortable on her shoulders. 

 

Spike, of course, noticed the shift in her even in the cloud-covered night. “What’s going on, lil Bit?”

 

“Just anxious, I guess.” She knew he’d want more, and he was persistent as anything until she told him the truth. But even she didn’t quite know the answer. “I mean, to see everyone. It was only last night, but it feels like a hundred years have passed.”

 

Spike chuckled. “One day is a far cry from a hundred years.” Dawn knew he would know. “If I’m being honest, I’m a bit nervous myself.”

 

“You are?” Buffy stopped twirling the stake she was holding and came to an abrupt halt. “Why?”

 

Dawn watched Spike’s emotions slide over his face as he turned his head and seemed to be trying to decide how to respond to her sister’s query. “Because last night was. . . different.” 

 

Dawn’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t possibly know they were from the future, could he? He was intuitive but not psychic, right? 

 

Luckily, Buffy found her voice. “Different how?”

 

He shrugged. “Than I expected, I guess.” He paused half a second. “I know you don’t know what it all means, but it meant something to me.” He shook his head as if he was trying to hold back. “Let’s just keep going. Get Dawn to the shop and head out to the cemeteries.” 

 

Dawn exchanged a glance with her sister, and they hurried to catch up to the vampire, who had kept going. Dawn went left and Buffy went right, each catching one of Spike’s leather-clad arms so that they were linked together. He smiled at both of them. 

 

They walked the final block in amicable silence and then they were at the door to the Magic Box. The lights glowed yellow inside, and Dawn’s heart migrated into her throat. She turned to her sister. 

 

“You’re coming in with me, right?” So, there was a little panic there. 

 

Buffy hesitated, and her eyes were filled with matching panic that changed quickly to determination. “Yeah. For a minute.”

 

Dawn tugged on her backpack strap again. “Thanks.” 

 

When neither one moved, Spike huffed and strode around them to fling open the door. The bell sang out its familiar tinkle. Dawn stared into the store with wide eyes. 

 

Tara glanced up from where she was straightening candles in the front and making a monumental mountain of wax pillars. Dawn wished she could erase the worry and sadness in the witch’s big eyes. “Hey, Dawnie. Come on in. Buffy’s going patrolling, right?”

 

Dawn stepped over the threshold like she was going in front of a firing squad. She really didn’t understand the sense of dread. These were the same people she always knew and loved. “Yeah. With Spike.” She stood awkwardly to one side. “Where’s Willow?” 

 

“O-oh. She’s staying at her parents’ place. For a couple of days. Xander and Anya. They aren’t here either.” The corner of Tara’s mouth lifted. “Glad you’re here though.” Her effort at buoyancy was. . . effortful. 

 

Giles came up from behind Tara as Spike and Buffy entered the shop. He stripped off his glasses, holding them by the arm. “Buffy, I know you’re going patrolling, but we should talk when you’re done.” 

 

“A-all right,” Buffy said uncertainly. Dawn knew something like this had happened before. Giles was going to tell her he was leaving. 

 

“It’s about your resurrection. I just want to talk about how you’re doing. To understand what happened and to. . . well, to provide support that you probably need.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy’s eyes filled with tears. “Okay.” 

 

Giles drew her into a hug. “Go. Patrol. It’s good that you’re doing normal things. I’ll be here.”

 

Buffy blinked rapidly. “Dawnie, I’ll be back.”

 

“Promise?” God, she sounded so young. Tara and Giles probably thought she was worried about Buffy dying again. There was always that fear because when her sister was the Slayer, but there was more to it than that this time around.

 

Buffy squeezed Dawn’s shoulder. “Promise.”

 

When Buffy and Spike were gone, Giles headed back to the cash register where he continued counting money. But Tara abandoned her task and smiled at Dawn. “Want to head over to the Espresso Pump for a mocha? We can get them to go and come back here so you can work on your homework.”

 

“I-I don’t have any homework.” There was absolutely no way in hell that she was doing homework. She’d already done it! Probably.

 

“Got a full backpack there for no homework.” Tara teased, reaching out to tap the filled-to-the-brim bag. “You don’t want to fall behind.”

 

A sick feeling filled Dawn’s stomach. “Oh yeah. That.” She had fallen astronomically behind when Buffy came back. Hence, the social services investigation and the guidance counselor meetings. If she did her homework now, would that knowledge carry over to the younger Dawn once she went back to her present? She had no idea, and thinking about it made her brain hurt. “Maybe I do have a little homework. Could we get dessert, too? You know what they say about sugar helping out with the learning.”

 

Tara went to the table in the back to retrieve her crossbody bag. “We can get dessert. What do they say about sugar and learning?”

 

Dawn laughed, shifting her backpack off and setting it reverently on the table next to a book on crossroad dimensions. Whatever those were. “I have no idea. It just sounded good in my head.” 

 

Tara’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “It does sound good.” She looped her purse over her head. “Giles, you want anything?” 

 

Giles counted out a pile of one dollar bills and wrote something on a ledger before saying, “I’d love some tea. Earl Grey. Maybe a drop or two of milk if they have it. Not the bloody half and half crap.” 

 

“It’ll be the tea bag kind and not the loose kind,” Tara reminded him. 

 

Giles rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. I know. I can tolerate a bag if I must. Been doing it long enough here. Thank you, Tara.” He smiled at her in a knowing and kind way, and Dawn sensed that there was something between them that she didn’t know or understand. 

 

The breeze had picked up when Tara and Dawn headed toward the coffee shop, and Dawn was suddenly glad Buffy had made her wear a jacket. She zipped it up and shoved her hands in the warm pockets.

 

Dawn spoke first. “So, you and Giles seem okay.”

 

Tara tried to wrap her sweater tighter around her body while keeping the bag in place. “As okay as we can be. I mean, I think I’m the only one who’s owned up to anything. That and we sang a song together.”

 

“You did?”

 

“It wasn’t a happy one.” Tara pressed her lips together as if holding back some emotion. 

 

“I don’t think that demon guy promotes happy songs. Only the ones that make you want to off yourself. Or spontaneously combust.” Dawn sighed. “It’s like the opposite of a romantic comedy with songs. But Buffy sure showed him.”

 

“I wasn’t there, but I think you probably held your own, too.” Tara sounded confident in this, which surprised Dawn. Before she could comment, Tara asked, “So, Dawnie, how are you really?”

 

Dawn twisted her mouth to one side. “What do you mean?” 

 

“I mean about what Buffy said last night about being in heaven.” Tara was normally reserved and shy, but she didn’t beat around the bush most of the time, which Dawn appreciated. There was something about Tara that made her feel comfortable, that reminded her of her mom. And Tara’s query about Buffy was new. No one had asked her before, but it made sense that Tara would. 

 

“Is ‘I’m not surprised’ too weird to say?” Her younger self hadn’t been surprised either. 

 

“No. No.” The little lines appeared between Tara’s eyes, and she was silent for a few minutes. Then, she said, “I wanted to say that you have to know that we didn’t know, but that doesn’t really help things. If we. . . if I had known, I wouldn’t have let it happen. Buffy deserved to be at peace. She died for you and for us and the world. She deserved peace. It was a violation – what we did to her.” 

 

For some reason, in that moment, Dawn’s mind rocketed back to her mom’s bedroom – the room where she’d found Tara lying dead on the floor with a bullet wound through her chest, blood spreading where blood wasn’t supposed to spread, her eyes wide open. Staring and lifeless. Her body getting colder with each hour that passed. 

 

Tears flew hot and fast down Dawn’s cheeks before she even realized she was crying, and then, without warning, she couldn’t breathe. She vaguely heard Tara calling her name as she gasped for air. Gentle hands led her to a bench, and she felt the hard wood under her thighs and Tara’s quiet reminder to slow down. 

 

Somehow, Dawn found and held onto the soft intonation of Tara’s words and was able to focus on the firmness of her touch on her arm. This buoy in the storm of her emotions helped Dawn regain her equilibrium, and after what seemed like an eternity, she discovered that maybe the world wasn’t turning on its axis and that she was safe. Before words could come, she found Tara’s blue eyes, which were far from lifeless and were instead bright with compassion and concern. 

 

“Dawnie, are you okay?” 

 

Dawn gave a short, shaky nod, her fingers finding the textured wood grain. “Y-yeah.”

 

“Was it something I said about Buffy? I didn’t mean to upset you. . .” Tara moved her bag onto the bench.

 

Dawn frowned. The powerful wave of needing to be noticed pushed forth. “I’m. . . thank you for being here.” The wave was replaced by a new desire to let Tara know that she was seen. “I’m glad that you’re here. You a-and Spike. I feel like you’re not appreciated enough for the good things you do. For being you.” Dawn drew Tara into a hug. “Thank you.”

 

Tara returned the affection, ending the gesture with a tiny rub of her hand on Dawn’s back. Tara searched Dawn’s eyes. The witch’s smile was lopsided as it often was. “Thanks for saying so. And you’re right. Spike’s been helping a lot.” She made a little face and was back to serious mode. “But seriously, Dawnie. We screwed up. Me and Willow and Xander and Anya. We should have told you and Giles and even Spike what we were thinking about doing, and I-I shouldn’t have let Willow follow through with what she did.”

 

Dawn wasn’t sure what to say to this because now, she was eternally grateful to have her sister back and that Buffy had found hope again, but Dawn couldn’t explain that because it would be too much. Instead, she did the best she could. “We were all grieving. I get grief so powerful that you’d do anything. I don’t know if you know this, but I tried to bring back Mom.” 

 

Tara turned and sagged back against the bench. “Willow gave you the book. She told me. I should have known then that she was taking things too far.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then reopened them. She shifted back toward Dawn. “Anytime you feel lonely or you need someone to talk with. I’m here. N-no matter what happens between me and Willow. You got that?”

 

Dawn felt inexplicably sad again. She wanted to replace her last memory of Tara with better ones – happier ones. “Same goes for you.” Then, she remembered something else. “What was it like – losing your mom?”

 

Tara’s eyes rounded. “O-oh. Did your sister tell you about that?”

 

Dawn leaned back, emulating Tara’s posture. “Not much. Just that you were seventeen. Between my age and Buffy’s.” 

 

“That is true.” 

 

Dawn let Tara’s silence linger and waited. As she waited, the thought flitted through her mind that losing Tara was a lot like losing her mom. Dawn leaned her head on Tara’s solid shoulder, cherishing the aliveness of her. 

 

Then, Tara said, “It’s been a few years. Since she died. Looking back, I felt adrift. . . . Alone. It’s like you lose that naïve notion that your parent is perfect when you’re a teenager, and you have to come to terms with that, figure out who you are, and form a new relationship with your mom. But when your mom dies? You don’t – I didn’t get that chance.” Tara was quiet again and then said, “I-it’s irrational, but I felt angry with her for leaving before we could do that and angry that she left me alone with the rest of my family and angry that she wasn’t going to be around for all the important things in my life.”

 

“I remember your family.” Dawn thought of Tara’s father, brother, and sister. A kernel of remembered anger shot through her chest in solidarity with Tara’s expression of the emotion.

 

“I-I made some choices then that. . . well, I did some things that didn’t make sense to me, that didn’t fit with who I am. They aren’t things I’d do now. I kinda wanted someone to notice and tell me to stop. I beat myself up; I thought I was an awful person.” 

 

Dawn bit her lip. She had stolen things – lots of things, some expensive, some silly. “I think I get that. How did you figure out what to do?”

 

“I had to figure out how to own it without beating myself up. I had to forgive myself, and I had to forgive my mom.”

 

“Sounds hard.” Dawn didn’t know if she was there yet.

 

“It was. And confusing. But you know what?”

 

Dawn lifted her head. “What?” 

 

Tara smiled at her with tears of her own. “I ended up feeling like maybe somehow, my mom was still with me. Just inside me. And I like to think that she brought me to you guys. My new family.”

 

With a lump in her throat, Dawn tilted her head, considering Tara’s words. “I like that. You are most definitely a member of my family.” They’d all claimed Tara before – even Spike. “And you’ll figure out a way to forgive yourself this time, too. And if it helps, I forgive you for not including me and Giles and Spike, for hurting my sister.”

 

Tara leaned her head on top of Dawn’s and sighed. “It does.”

 

Dawn bit her lip and decided a mental break was really needed. “Wanna thumb wrestle until we feel better?” 

 

Tara laughed. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

 

Dawn jutted her chin out. “One year older than last time! And you’re never too old to thumb wrestle.” 

 

“Fine.” Tara wiped her cheek with one hand and held out her other one, thumb up and at the ready. “But then, we’re going to get mochas and the tea for Giles that he’ll probably hate. And you’re going to do your homework.”

 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much from both of us for all your support in sharing your likes and thoughts about each chapter and the mood boards! I'm behind on comment replies, but I'll get to them soon! 
> 
> Special thank you to those who gave me wonderful ideas for Giles and what tea he’d drink! The EF FB group is amazing! This is what my question was for all those months ago!


	7. Chapter Four, Creating a Shift - Buffy

_Buffy_

 

As soon as they left the Magic Box, Buffy put her hand on Spike’s forearm. “Just be with me. Patrol with me. Okay?” She hoped that he understood that they’d talk, but first, she needed to stake some vampires or kill a demon or two who might be doing not-so-nice things. 

 

Spike went with the flow. “Okay, pet.”

 

In the closest cemetery, they came across a couple of vamps waiting at a graveside for a fledgling to rise. This was fairly rare on the Hellmouth because there was usually a Slayer lurking, but according to Spike, it was routine in other parts of the world. Tonight, the waiting vamps were convenient for slaying. Luckily, the clouds were parting a little, and there was some light to see them by.

 

Buffy exchanged a glance with Spike and grinned at him. He smiled back and nodded, letting her take the lead. She strode up between the two taller male vamps and peered down at the grave they were watching. “Mound of dirt watching is the new ‘in’ thing, huh? How come no one told me? I’ve been doing it for years now. I’d fit right in with your club!”

 

The vampires stared at her in surprise, and the one with the spiky red hair growled, “Slayer,” even as his partner grabbed her from behind.

 

She laughed at their attempts, using the vampire behind her as leverage and kicking the redhead in his pale face. 

 

Spike flew into the fight then, bending to drag the howling vampire up and leaving her to Mr. Grabby Hands. 

 

She jammed an elbow back into his gut and twisted around as he loosened his hold on her. She bounced away, brandishing her stake, and complained, “This is too easy. I mean, c’mon. Aren’t you even gonna take a swing at me face to face?”

 

Enraged, he charged her, and she stepped casually aside at the last moment, staking him from behind. “Your face to face really wasn’t really doing it for me,” she informed his poof of dust. 

 

Her handiwork done, she spun to watch Spike dance and toy with his prey; she admired his sure movements and joy at hitting the redhead, who was a much better fighter than hers had been. Spike ducked a punch and took a sharp blow to the shoulder, but turned it around with a low kick that tripped the other vampire up. As the redheaded foe landed face down atop the fresh dirt, Spike’s arm arched back, and he plunged the wood into the redhead’s chest, leaving him as a light film over the cooking baby vamp.

 

Spike hopped back, caught Buffy observing him, and sniffed, running a hand over his hair and hiding a small smirk of pride. “Was too easy. What do you say? Wait for the worm here or head out for more accessible quarry?”

 

One arm crossed over her chest, Buffy briefly tapped her bottom lip. “Hmm. In my experience, we should circle back around. Waiting’s not my strong suit, and this,” she squinted at the headstone, “Carl is probably going to take all night.” Plus, she really needed a bit more action than these easy targets. She felt like she was just now shaking off the remnants of time travel sediment. 

 

His eyes shining, Spike acquiesced by falling in step on her left as she circled through the cemetery.

 

Two hours passed as they made their way around all the Sunnydale cemeteries, staking several vampires and rescuing a young boy from a couple of sky blue demons, who were either trying to kidnap him or eat his fingers. She had almost forgotten what it was like to fight alongside someone who really matched her stamina and verve for slaying in a way that only Faith ever had. Teaching new Slayers how to fight and slay and use their instincts was hard work and often not much fun as she ended up doing a lot of the heavy lifting and making sure no one died or got seriously injured. The latter was virtually impossible – lots of injuries but luckily only two deaths so far. She never realized just how easy it was with Spike at her side, and she found herself caught up in the heat and energy of it all and. . . enjoying herself. What a concept!

 

Tired and happy, they reached the fledgling’s grave to find Carl still buried deep. Resigned to waiting but no longer dreading it, Buffy flopped down next to the grave and crisscrossed her legs, leaning forward so that her forearms draped over her thighs. She blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes and failed, and she smiled at Spike as he joined her on the ground, adjusting his duster so that his knee touched hers. 

 

He brushed her wayward hair back and tucked it in with the rest, and the familiar wave of desire flew over her. She relished it and didn’t pull away, and he seemed to relax because she was calm at his touch. 

 

“Nice to see you smiling,” he commented, almost offhandedly as if he didn’t want to scare her off by being too serious. 

 

“It’s a nice night to slay.” When she saw a flash of disappointment on his features she amended, “It’s nice to be with you.”

 

He lifted an eyebrow at her. He thought she didn’t mean the second part. Still, he didn’t go down the rabbit hole of defensiveness, which was unusual for him. “The weight’s off your shoulders a bit, isn’t it?”

 

“What do you mean?” She wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

 

“Since telling your mates where you were.” 

 

“Oh. Yeah.” She was surprised to recognize that he was right. Somehow, it felt different this time, telling them the way she did. She hadn’t sung the truth to her friends as if her heart was being ripped out; instead, she’d told them on her own and without magical influence from the demon. There was reclaimed power in that. Huh. “You’re right. I do feel lighter. I mean, it doesn’t erase everything, but there’s a piece of me that feels free. I know more conversation will be needed, but it’s less daunting now.”

 

“I’m glad.” He sounded so genuine that her heart ached. 

 

“Thank you for being there.” Her mind skipped back (or was it forward?) to the time she was sitting on the sofa and telling him that she wasn’t ready for him to not be there. 

 

“Anytime, Slayer.” She could tell he was holding back and wanted to say something more. And then, he did. “You letting me in since you came back? It means a lot. I know I said it before, but it needed saying again.” 

 

She knew – deep down she always knew – that this was what he wanted more than anything. It wasn’t the kissing or the sex. Well, he did want those things, too. But beyond that, he wanted the emotional intimacy. He craved it. She’d simply turned a blind eye and buried his feelings with insults because she hated herself and her life so much and because he’d pushed back so hard that her head spun. 

 

How much to tell him that wasn’t too much? “It means a lot that you’re there. Listening. Not judging.”

 

He made a small sound of derision. “Being a bit of a therapist.” 

 

“No.” Her immediate response made his eyes go wide. “Being a friend.”

 

His face softened. “Trust me now, do you?”

 

She frowned. Did she trust this version of Spike? And what would Buffy-of-then say if she was being honest with herself? “With some things.” She took a deep breath and fidgeted with the seam of her jeans. “Like keeping Dawn safe. And my mom. You helped out all summer after I was gone. I appreciate that. More than you know.” Spike waited; he could probably tell she had more to say. Gathering her thoughts, she continued, “You’ve really come through for us. It’s a really great start – ”

 

Spike drew away from her with an abruptness that made her heart skip a beat. Catching her expression, he held his finger to his lips. Then, he shook his head. “Sorry, love. Thought I heard something. Think it was a cat.”

 

“O-oh.” The interruption gave her the courage to ask, “How was it for you? These last. . . months when I was gone.”

 

He settled back down next to her, but this time, he wasn’t touching her. He studied his hands where they lay in his lap palms up – vulnerable. The shadows made his face invisible. “Some of the darkest I’ve had in a long time. I felt a lot of. . .” He shook his head, and she caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes in the light of the moon. “You know what. No. I can’t do this.” He pulled up to his feet again and started striding away. 

 

Buffy sat for a moment with her mouth open before she jumped up and ran after him. “Wait!” She grabbed at his elbow, and he slowed down. “What can’t you do?”

 

“Pretend. I can’t pretend that I don’t have feelings for you. That I don’t love you. I can’t go patrolling with you every night and pretend to be a white hat to earn your trust, because if I do, and you. . . if you end up having feelings for me, how will I know if it’s for me? Or for some version of me that you want me to be?” The emotion in his voice told her that he meant every word. 

 

She tried to take a moment before responding. “Do you think I don’t see you now?”

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

She crossed her arms and shared what she’d gathered from him ever since he came back with his soul. “I see someone who was one way for over a hundred years. Someone who did terrible, horrific things but also loved his family. Someone who wanted their love and acceptance in return but was left without it in the end. He found himself stuck with something that prevents him from doing what he’s used to doing, and to survive, he aligned himself with the people he used to hate. The problem was that he ended up caring far more for them than he ever wanted to or dreamed that he would. He even did some things he never dreamed he’d ever do and isn’t sure he wants to continue doing.” A breeze kicked up, and she hugged her arms close to her. It was so clear to her when it wasn’t before. “You’re at a crossroads, Spike. And it’s got to be confusing and scary and hard all at the same time. And you want to know why I get that now?”

 

Spike stared at her and then said, “Because you’re in the same place. Confused and scared. You’re at a crossroads, too, only coming from the other direction.”

 

Tears filled her eyes. “Right.” Sort of. He didn’t know that she knew far more than she was telling.

 

“Only you got one thing wrong.”

 

“What’s that?” She sniffed, wiping her eyes with one hand.

 

His voice was low. “I had dreams before I became a vampire. Things I don’t usually think about. You’d think I wouldn’t remember them after all this time, but I do.” He was silent for several seconds, and Buffy literally held her breath. “Before Dru turned me, I was a good man. I remember making the ‘right’ choices and doing the ‘right’ things to fit in, and it didn’t exactly end up well for me then either.” 

 

“Well, maybe this is your chance for things to go well this time.”

 

“Try, try, try again and all that rot?” 

 

She nodded, words escaping her as a swell of emotions rolled in. She needed him to keep trying but couldn’t say it. 

 

Spike studied her and then stepped forward, his hands in the pockets of his duster. His shoulders lifted with his intake of air, and Buffy took the risk and met him halfway, slipping her arms under his coat and around his waist and laying her cheek over his heart. He embraced her in return, hesitantly at first and then really relaxing with her, and Buffy never wanted to leave his arms again. 

 

When he laid his cheek atop her head, she admitted, “I’m kinda failing at life right now, and a-a lot of the time, I feel numb. . . like things aren’t real.” This much was true. She could differentiate better between her own current feelings and emotions from the past, but the old feelings were still there. 

 

“I imagine things don’t feel right, pet. But I think you’re doing the best you can given the circumstances.” He planted a light kiss on her head. “You seemed to get out of your head a bit last night when we were baking.” 

 

She hugged him tighter. “Y-you’re right. And tonight. Slaying with you was needed.”

 

He chuckled, the sound echoing in his chest. “Sometimes it’s needed as long as it’s slaying with me and not rendering me a pile of dust.”

 

She giggled. “I think I need more moments like that, you know? To remind me what’s good about here.”

 

“I’d like to help with that. If you’ll let me.”

 

“I’d like that.” 

 

He stroked the base of her back but no further. “What about your friends?” 

 

“They’ll just have to deal. I just have to deal with them bringing me back; they deserve to be a little uncomfortable for a little bit.” A realization hit her. Boy, she was all with the revelations tonight. “Though I do understand why they did what they did.” 

 

“It’s okay to be angry with them. Got your back on that one.” 

 

Buffy wasn’t sure where she stood on that just yet. She moved back to see his face in the moonlight. “What do you need? From me and Dawn?”

 

Astonishment washed over his features, and when he recovered, he said, “Talk with me. Let me help. I’d like to help, and. . . be honest with me even if it hurts.”

 

She smiled. “I can do that.” 

 

There was a scratching sound, and Buffy and Spike turned toward the fresh grave. 

 

“Looks like our worm is finally making an appearance.”

 

“About bloody time.”

 

The noises got louder, and as the volume increased, the scent of cinnamon filled Buffy’s nose. Her last thought was of Dawn and how she wouldn’t be able to keep her promise. Before Buffy could say or do anything else, a sharp pain sliced through her abdomen, and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We thank you very much for your kind words and support! Finally, we've reached a skipping point and many of your questions will be answered about how the skipping works.


	8. Chapter Five, A Hop, Skip, and a Jump - Dawn

 

_Dawn_

 

Dawn came back into her body with a scream on her lips. She was on her stomach under something big and dark that smelled like leaking gasoline tinged with a hint of cinnamon. 

 

And then, something grabbed her ankles, dragging her across the ground. In a blind panic, her fingers scraped uselessly over the concrete, pebbles and tiny rocks like tiny sharp knives on her skin. Insanely, she thought about her blue backpack sitting on the Magic Box table and all the homework she never got to do.

 

But that was in the past, and now – 

 

She was under a car. A cry of terror spilled past her lips, and she remembered.

 

This was the night that Willow was supposed to take her to the movies and instead got hopped up on magic with Rack.

 

Somehow, Dawn managed to wrench one leg free, and she kicked back against the other hand that had her other ankle, and she scrambled further under her shelter. She had no idea what to do, but she knew Buffy and Spike were close – she hoped, so when the creature that Willow had accidentally summoned went around the side of the car and hauled her out that way, she somehow managed to inhale deeply and screamed again – the loudest, most piercing scream her lungs could fuel. 

 

Her body slammed against something concrete, cutting short her emergency beacon of sound, and as stars filled her vision, a piercing pain bloomed in her arm, radiating outward in jagged lines. She gasped and found breathing difficult – almost how she felt in reaction to Tara not so long ago on the way to the Espresso Pump. Through blurred eyes, she barely caught the ugly creature coming at her again, and she rolled away just as the creature flew backward. 

 

“Hey!” Buffy shouted. “Pick on someone your own size! Someone not my sister!”

 

The subsequent blows and grunts between Buffy and the monster became background music for the air moving in and out of Dawn’s lungs, and she tried deliberately to slow her breathing, grounding herself the same way Tara had grounded her. With her unhurt arm, she pressed her palm onto the concrete, focusing on the abrasive edges of the gravel as she breathed in and then out. 

 

Spike’s cool hand touched her next, and he crouched next to her with concern written all over his face. “Hey, Nibblet. You okay? Bleeding from your head.” With quick efficiency, he inspected her forehead and then moved on to her arm. “Something’s not right here.”

 

“No kidding, Sherlock,” Dawn said softly. She coughed, her head spinning from the effort of sarcasm. 

 

“Good girl, pigeon. Keep breathing and talk to me. What happened?” He began feeling her arm with expert fingers as she spoke.

 

“Willow took me out to get dinner and then we were going to – ow!” She jerked her arm away from his examination, which only made it hurt worse. Tears filled her eyes at the brilliance of the pain. 

 

Spike gently touched her arm, helping her cradle it against her body. “Sorry. Definitely broken. We need to get you to a hospital. Tell me more.”

 

Dawn’s eyes cleared, and she studied Spike’s face. She felt even steadier, and she realized what he was doing – trying to keep her conscious. He’d done the same before. Luckily, the memory of that evening remained unusually clear as traumatic experiences often do. “W-we were supposed to go to the movies, but Willow took me to this creepy magic place and made me wait for hours. We more than missed the previews, which I never miss.”

 

He propped his forearm on his thigh, hand dangling. “Rack’s. You went to Rack’s. Pesky little asshat. Juicing witches up and feeding on their energy. Not a place for you, being as you’re the key and all.” He quickly amended with, “Not that that’s all you are. I just worry ‘bout someone hurting you.” 

 

Dawn trembled. She hadn’t thought of it that way, and she didn’t remember Spike being this open with her last time Willow did the same. “Yeah. No one really paid any attention to me.”

 

“They better be glad they didn’t. I’d rip them limb from limb if they looked crossways at you. Chip be damned.” Spike was watching her closely, ignoring the sounds of Buffy fighting the demon. She could tell he knew Buffy had this. “Ready to stand with a bit of assistance?”

 

She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. She knew he hated when she said it, so she didn’t, but she felt so safe with him. In that last year in Sunnydale, she’d forgotten just how much.

 

Spike helped her slowly get to her feet, keeping his arm around her waist, and she leaned heavily on him for several seconds until the wave of nausea passed. Her whole arm throbbed with strident aching pain. She opened her eyes just as a shaking Willow cast a spell to magically explode the freaky demon she’d accidentally summoned. 

 

Buffy was before Dawn with worry and apology written all over her features. “Dawnie.”

 

Dawn opened her mouth to speak, but the pain was too much, so Spike spoke for her, “She’s okay enough, but I think we need to get her to the ER. Check her for a concussion. Set her arm.”

 

“It’s broken?” Buffy stared at Dawn’s arm, reaching out a tentative hand. Dawn couldn’t tell whether Buffy had skipped ahead in time with her and didn’t have the energy to check out their signal. 

 

“Think so. Not just cracked. Felt it when I examined her.”

 

“Okay. Let’s go. Come with?” It was a question, not a demand.

 

“Of course,” Spike said as if that were a given. This was also different. Last time Dawn was in this position, there’d been palpable tension between the vampire and her sister. Now, their dynamic felt. . . easy. Softer. “What about Red?” 

 

Buffy’s jaw tightened, and her eyes flashed with anger. Dawn hadn’t noticed that before, but she considered maybe she’d been too stunned. “I don’t know, but she’s not coming with us to the hospital.”

 

As Dawn let herself be led away (like she had much of a choice given her physical state), Willow approached, her face crumpled and wretched. Her breathing was colored by ragged sobs of exhaustion, fear, and anguish. Dawn almost felt sorry for her – almost. “Dawnie, I’m so so so sorry.”

 

Dawn remembered that she’d slapped Willow here, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to hit her this time. Instead, Dawn summoned every ounce of energy left and somehow kept her voice even and clear. “Tara’s right. You need to work on the magic thing before it destroys you. And the rest of us.” That done, she sagged back, but Spike steadied her.

 

Buffy stepped forward. “Go home. Shower.”

 

“Y-you’re not kicking me out?” Willow sounded like she was begging.

 

“No, but Dawn’s right. We need to talk about what’s been happening. Not just brush it under the rug. Later.” Buffy glanced at Spike and nodded at him.

 

Spike took the signal and started leading Dawn away. Buffy fell in step behind them. 

 

Willow fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands, her sobs trailing after them for what seemed like forever. 

 

Dawn, Buffy, and Spike journeyed in silence toward the closest hospital. It always struck Dawn as sort of weird that Buffy and friends always knew the location of the closest medical treatment centers and the hours of operation. But she guessed it made sense. She was just glad that the hospital closest to their current location was not the one Mom had been to. 

 

Last time Dawn had been injured, Spike had taken leave of them at the entrance to the ER, but this time, Buffy addressed him. “Thanks for your help finding Dawn tonight. I know you were trying to sleep.”

 

Spike smiled with affection at Dawn, and she saw how much he cared about her – the emotion there was unequivocal. “You know better than that. When it comes to the Nibblet, it’s never a bother.”

 

Dawn’s heart ached because she didn’t think he cared all that much the first time this happened. He’d just disappeared like everyone else. The invitation flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Come in with us and hold my hand when they set my arm.”

 

Spike hesitated, uncertainty flickering through his blue eyes, and he ran his left hand over the back of his neck. “I dunno. You’ve got big sis for the hand squeezing.”

 

Buffy touched his arm, a gesture of warm solicitation. “No. Please come. Dawn wants your hand to squeeze.”

 

Spike glanced back and forth between Dawn and Buffy, his shoulders relaxing as he saw that they both wanted him there. “All right.”

 

Buffy reached over and hugged his arm but then let go. “Ready, Dawn?”

 

Dawn faced the entrance with equal parts trepidation and determination. “No. But I have to.” This was one of those memories she never wanted to relive again. 

 

Like before, the waiting room was dim but mostly empty, the lady who checked her in was grumpy because her attention was drawn away from the TV show she was watching, and Dawn was whisked back to a room with a clear sliding door right away. Also as before, a man with a puncture wound in his neck took priority after Dawn’s X-ray was done. Buffy chose to ignore her duty in the face of her sister’s injuries and remained with her under the abnormally bright fluorescent lights. 

 

What was different was that Spike was here. He was antsy and pacing in his tiny area of the small room with his hands on his hips. “Stupid bloke didn’t get the bloody memo that he wasn’t supposed to hang out in cemeteries or dark alleys at night in Sunnydale. And to top it off, he got bit by a wanker, who’s giving vampires a bad name by making a mess of his dinner and leaving him alive.”

 

Almost forgetting the pain in her arm and the nausea from her head, Dawn was amused and tried not to laugh, but Buffy stiffened next to her. Dawn was sure she was going to chastise Spike at the very least.

 

Instead, Buffy simply said, “I know you’re worried about Dawn not getting treated right away. How ‘bout you funnel some of that energy into getting us some snacks?” 

 

Spike paused mid-pace and searched his pockets, patting his jeans and running his hands through his duster. Already visibly calmer, he produced a small treasure trove of wrinkled dollar bills and some coins and laid them on the bed like a tribute. “All right. Taking orders. What’ll it be, Nibblet?”

 

Dawn grinned. “Anything chocolate. Preferably with nuts and a Dr. Pepper.”

 

“You’ll be up all night. You need sleep to heal,” Spike admonished. “Sprite.”

 

She rolled her eyes. She enjoyed his taking charge far more than she could say. It reminded her of how they’d been together over the summer. “Fine.”

 

Spike lifted his eyes to Buffy, no hint of desperation there – just a simple question. “Pet?”

 

The corner of Buffy’s mouth lifted though her eyes were still tight with the exhaustion that Dawn always remembered coating her sister like a heavy cloak in those days. “I’ll share the Sprite with Dawnie, but I’d love some peanut M&Ms.” 

 

Sliding open the glass door, Spike nodded, scooped up the cash, and gave Dawn a pointed look, hinting at promise. “I’ll be back before they set your arm.”

 

After the vampire left, Dawn scooted over on the small bed and patted the space next to her in a silent invitation for her sister to join her. She had so many questions. What better time to do it than without Spike there?

 

Buffy slid next to her right side and leaned her head back against the wall. “Sorry, Dawnie.”

 

Dawn didn’t feel as angry as she did before, so she was able to say, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know Willow would do that. And you kinda sorta still have to do your job. Last I heard, patrolling at the Hellmouth is still on your list of duties.” 

 

“But first and foremost, I’m supposed to protect you, especially since Mom’s not here to be with you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

 

“Seriously. It’s okay. And I’m growing up in case you didn’t notice.” Dawn blamed her next fumble on being tired and kind of still in a state of shock. “Tadpole.” That was the second keyword on the list. She and Buffy had come up with several before they left and had memorized the list – just in case there were time jumps. They didn’t know what their past selves would remember if there was jumping. Would they have a gap in their memory? Remember bits and pieces? Remember everything? Dawn had landed in a time where she was almost killed, and as such, the predominant imprint she’d gotten was terror. At least she knew that Willow was making the same mistakes with magic despite the changes that had occurred so far. That was probably a good sign. Sort of.

 

“Tadpole? What?” Buffy wrinkled her nose and reached up to pat Dawn’s head. “Did you hit your head a little too hard?” 

 

So, this wasn’t her Buffy. Dawn felt a wave of anxiety pour through her chest and into in her gut where it churned. “No,” she said in faux annoyance. “I just have a test in science tomorrow.”

 

“A test in science that makes you spout out random baby animal names?” Buffy with more sarcasm was nice. 

 

“Yes! I couldn’t remember what a baby frog was called earlier today. It just came to me.” Dawn tried not to pat herself too hard on the back for that save.

 

“As these things do in the middle of the night after you almost get killed by a demon.” 

 

“Yep! Exactly.” Dawn laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. 

 

The sisters were silent for several seconds, and then, Dawn found herself asking, “So, what’s the deal with you and Spike?”

 

“What do you mean?” So, there was some possible denial there. This definitely wasn’t her Buffy.

 

Dawn took a deep breath and jumped into the deep end. “Well, since that night, you know? The one where you confronted Willow and them for bringing you back. The night of the chocolate chip cookie bake-off. Since then, you seem different together.” She had no idea if this Buffy knew about any of it. A new tidbit popped into Dawn’s head – something that had happened between the then and now of her time jump. “And y-you kissed him after we got our memories back when Willow cast that blank slate spell.” 

 

Buffy froze. “How do you know I kissed him?” 

 

“I saw you. I live in the same house, you know. The house has windows that people sometimes look out of.”

 

“Dawn! You were spying on me!”

 

“Maybe. But you’re just using that to avoid my question.” 

 

Buffy sounded tired but placating. “What was the question again?”

 

“What’s going on with you and Spike?”

 

She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know yet.”

 

“What do you mean?” Dawn kept her tone casual.

 

Buffy was quiet, but Dawn waited. Then, her sister said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but adjusting to being back has been hard. I-I mean, I know we’ve talked about it some, but it’s worth repeating.” She said the next part in a rush, “It’s not like I don’t want to be here with you. Okay? I love you. It’s just that going from utmost peace back here to the Hellmouth is. . .” 

 

“A big contrast?” Dawn had been too upset about her sister being absent before to appreciate this.

 

A puff of air escaped Buffy’s lips. “Understatement. And Spike has really been there for me. And I know he was there for you, too. When I was gone. So. . .”

 

“You’re letting him in?”

 

“Without leading him on about what I can give right now. I hope.” Buffy hesitated and then admitted, “I kind of kissed him when he was comforting me about Giles leaving that night you saw us.”

 

“I don’t understand why Giles is going.” Dawn still had no clue why he left even in the last rendition of the timeline.

 

“He didn’t really want to go, but the Council called him in since I died and came back – under threat that they’d descend on Sunnydale to ‘investigate.’ He’s protecting us and doing some research about a Slayer being back from the dead a second time while he’s there. I think he’d come back at the drop of a hat though. If we needed him. He pretty much said so in that very British way of his.” 

 

“Oh.” Dawn lifted her head to see Buffy’s eyes shining with unshed tears. She felt a sudden urge to fix it for her sister or the very least distract her, probably the same way Spike did. “The baking thing was fun. We should do it again.” There was no memory of another evening together since the chocolate chip war. “Do you remember our talk that night?” She didn’t know how to ask without being direct-ish.

 

“We should. I could use something chocolate-y. And we did talk.” Buffy yawned. “I can’t remember exactly everything we talked about except about how it was nice to all be together and about how Spike was there for you over the summer. And I shared some about what it was like to come back. That was nice. The sharing with you, too.” Buffy said nothing about time travel or signals or if they’d done too much to change the timeline. Curiouser and curiouser. 

 

“Maybe we could bake tonight when we get home?” Dawn tried not to sound too hopeful.

 

“Not tonight. We have chocolate coming, and you heard Spike. You need to rest. And I need to talk with Willow.” 

 

The door slid open, and Spike ducked in, one arm full of the candy and soda. A nurse and doctor followed him. “I can back you up with that conversation if you’d like.” Dawn caught Buffy’s smile. Spike inclined his head toward the healthcare staff. “Look who I found. Ready to squeeze my hand, Bit?”

 

Her right hand gripping the rough hospital sheet, Dawn’s stomach sank with dread. She swallowed. “If I have to.”

 

Buffy moved aside, taking the snacks, and making way for Spike. She smiled at him as he passed her to take Dawn’s hand. 

 

When Dawn placed her hand in his, she found that his palm was dry and cool and steady. His fingers folded around hers. Dawn smiled up at him, thankful he was there. 

 

The nurse patted her leg, her kind brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry. You’ll have an anesthetic.”

 

“Okay.” Dawn was with Buffy and Spike. That was all she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind thoughts, likes, and support! Hope everyone is having a lovely holiday season if you celebrate a holiday at this time of year! We hope you enjoyed this chapter...you will find out where Buffy landed in the next part!


	9. Chapter Five, A Hop, Skip, and a Jump - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badwolfjedi's mood board here really makes the story rich in such a beautiful way...

_Buffy_

 

Buffy was warm. 

 

The feeling was delicious and not jarring, and the scent was achingly familiar. There was a lingering hint of vanilla, the barest notion of tobacco, a touch of fabric softener, and only a dash of the cinnamon that came with time travel. She was curled up on her side, her knees drawn up, silky, well-washed sheets kissing her skin. Her head was embraced by the softest pillow she’d ever felt – like a cloud cradling her skull. 

 

If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was in heaven again. 

 

A warm body lay behind her, a back flush against her own, and there was a cool hand wrapped around hers, and then, her mind went into a spiral.

 

When was she? Had she gone insane and somehow gotten involved in a threesome with Spike? Had she and Dawn totally trashed their reality?

 

Her eyes flew open, and the vampire next to her shifted when her hand gave a small jerk. Low yellow light barely provided enough luminance so that she could see where she was.

 

She was in Spike’s crypt. In his bed. The sheets and pillows were the best she’d ever had the privilege of sleeping on – not that she’d ever slept there before. The scent was from one of his many candles; he’d gone for vanilla because he thought she liked the fragrance. The only problem was she didn’t.

 

For years, her mother had always bought her vanilla everything, so it had stuck. Buffy had kept the bottles of lotion, body wash, shampoo, and body mist in her bathroom for the longest without using them though Dawn would sometimes borrow them. When their mom died, the scent had been one of the only things that made Buffy feel close to her. Buffy thought she remembered throwing that little nugget in Spike’s face during one of the times she’d been upset with him. She’d said something about him being pathetic and making assumptions that he knew her in any way form or fashion just because he’d broken into her house a time or two and rifled through her things.

 

“Buffy?” Spike’s voice was quiet. Gentle. 

 

She clasped his hand in hers. Unlike the last time she’d held his hand in her own timeline, he was still whole – no beaming yellow lights of destruction streaming out of his body. He’d killed so many Turok-Han. Thousands. Did that mean he’d made up for all the people he’d killed? A lump formed in her throat. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

He studied her face with his head turned toward her on his pillow, but something about the way he looked at her seemed – off. “You okay?” 

 

“Just had a weird dream.”

 

“One of those nightmares again?” 

 

“How’d you – ” Buffy hadn’t told Spike or anyone about the nightmares the first time around. No one had even talked with her about what she’d revealed in song after she sang it, so she’d just shut down more, withdrawing inside herself. Everyone else seemed to have bigger problems that consumed them, and she’d been too busy trying to make enough money to pay the bills while pretending like life was just dandy. 

 

“You’ve been having them, love. Doesn’t take a lot of intuition to make a guess that you were if you jolted that much in her your sleep. Plus, there was the whimpering that came before. Surprised the kid sis didn’t wake up with how hard you moved.” Spike nodded past her.

 

Buffy peeked over her shoulder. Her sister was fast asleep behind her. Her dark hair was a shiny puddle behind her head, and she was laying on her right side, broken arm with its plaster cast up. “Oh.” She regarded Spike. Why were they sleeping in his crypt? She tried to force her brain to tell her what had been happening that landed them here but nothing. That was inconvenient. Was her past self compartmentalizing? She’d done it before with the dreams. “H-help me remember.” She hoped he didn’t think she sounded crazy for drawing a blank.

 

Spike didn’t show a trace of irritation. The edge that came with being a vampire – being Spike – was still there, but there was a kindness and protectiveness that overlay it. She’d seen it when he was around Dawn and Tara and more than once. It had been there before with her prior to their first kiss after she came back. Yet this time around, the emotion remained bright and unyielding. “You’re invisible, Slayer. You got zapped by some ray or bit of magic, and you got scared. You and the little Bit showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the afternoon. What was I going to do? Turn you away? Your sis was mighty upset and knackered from what happened. Guess you were, too. It’d daytime for me. We all fell asleep.”

 

Oh my god. Buffy sat up. She had no idea how things played out this time. “Does anyone know we’re here?” Her head suddenly spun and throbbed, and she discovered that she had to lay back down. What was happening? Was she turning to gelatinous pudding mush?

 

Spike found and rubbed her arm. “Relax, pet. Xander, Red, and the ex-demon are Scooby-Doo-ing it out. The old-fashioned way. They’re coming by here once it’s dark. It’s only been a couple of hours. They have some leads, and Giles is hitting the books for you even though he’s in the homeland.” He pinched her arm.

 

“Ow!” she said with some indignation. Apparently, they’d figured out that Spike could hurt her without a skull full of pain even in this version of events. Her new memories were finally making themselves known. They told her that it’d happened during patrol and on accident during a fight with some very big, very spiny greyish-pink demons who’d been digging up dead bodies to eat. She wrinkled her nose. Gross. 

 

“You still feel plenty solid to me.” Something about his expression told her that he was probably reassuring himself, too. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

 

His words were somewhat reassuring. “But my head. . .”

 

“Maybe it’s the head injury. You fell when the beam hit you. You caught yourself per usual, but you hit your head on a mailbox. Brick. I know because Harris said he stubbed his toe on it like a clumsy git. Though it was invisible, so I’ll give him that.” That was it. Buffy was officially in the Twilight Zone. Spike wasn’t snarking about Xander – much.

 

“Of course.” She’d hit her head more times than she could count on tombstones and always walked away with a killer headache – occasionally paired with dizziness and nausea that lasted a day or so before she was fine. She frowned as her brain worked to put pieces together. She didn’t remember a mailbox when she’d been walking out of the hair salon. Her hand automatically went to her invisible hair. The strands were still long and thick. Oh. And somehow, she’d ended up in bed with Spike and sleeping with nothing else expected. Spike was even wearing a black T-shirt – the fabric hiding the lean muscles she’d run her fingers and nails over more times than she could count. Plus, there was no way in hell anything was happening with her sister in the room. 

 

“Things have gotten awfully quiet in your direction. Say something, so I don’t think you’re starting to fade on me.” Spike’s eyes were dark with worry. 

 

“What about – ” 

 

She was about to ask about where she’d been going when Spike interrupted. “And don’t worry. I called the yogurt shop. Max is all set to do the job orientation once you’re visible again.” 

 

Yogurt shop? Max? Do huh? Buffy thought that yogurt selling already sounded light years better than slinging fake beef-chicken medleys at the Doublemeat. She had to remember to go fix the situation at the Doublemeat. She assumed the little old penis-head demon lady was still eating employees. Later. “You told him about me being invisible?” 

 

“Benefit of working for a demon establishment, love. They get this kind of thing, and knowing that you’re a Slayer adds a whole other level to their understanding.”

 

“Wait. What?” She had a totally different job this time, and she was working for a demon?

 

Spike chuckled. “Max is a good egg. The best as far as demon merchant sorts go. Thought you liked him? He’s paying two dollars more than minimum wage and benefits. Though I do think he’s getting a hell of a bargain with a Slayer on the payroll.”

 

Buffy was so baffled by the information Spike was giving her and the memories that were coming to her about said job that she asked the first question that popped out of her mouth. “How so?” 

 

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “You’ll be keeping the clientele in order. Didn’t Max explain all this at the interview?”

 

She bit her lip and searched her memory. “Oh. Yeah, he did. He didn’t really go into the details though. I’ll be breaking up fights?” She wondered what the hell Giles. . . or the Council would think about that. She didn’t plan on telling them. Giles? Maybe. The Council? And that was a firm “no.”

 

“The demon kiddies, love. That’s where they tend to get into scuffles. You being there’ll allow everyone to enjoy their yogurt.”

 

“Oh. I guess that’s a good thing.” Demon kids apparently enjoyed fro-yo, and she apparently had a job working as a sort of security guard in a demon fro-yo shop. Buffy suddenly felt very tired, but the pillow had become decidedly less cloud-like. 

 

No doubt picking up on something in her despite her current state of invisibility, Spike glided down next to her. “Want me to hold you?” He kept his head up, waiting for her response. The hope in his eyes was again palpable, though the words were casual.

 

Was that even a question? She never thought she’d feel his arms around her again. “Please.” 

 

Buffy rolled over and nestled her hips and back up against him. They’d never spooned. Not once. But when he moved into place behind her, she discovered that his body molded perfectly around hers. His hand skimmed over her belly, cradling her close. Almost without a thought, all her muscles relaxed, tugging her toward sleep again. She loved him, but she couldn’t say so, and it was ironic because now she wanted to say the words and couldn’t because of (other) reasons and not because she hated herself or was too depressed to fall in love with anyone in a healthy way.

 

Buffy felt him sigh quietly and press a small kiss on the back of her neck. A memory of leisurely kissing him in her basement rose up from the depths of her mind. Huh. That was new. He nuzzled her head. She shivered with desire and snuggled closer, feeling his own desire rise with her movement. Thank god her sister was here, or Buffy would be making love to him for the first time without a care in the world. There was something reassuring in his desire for her; he still wanted her even if they hadn’t brought a building down and consummated their union out of heat fueled by anger and desperation. 

 

“What’re the nightmares about?” he whispered into her hair.

 

Did she want to tell him? Should she tell him? Her mind was heavy with indecision. She hadn’t always been no-words girl. Once upon a time, she’d been carefree and all with the words. She’d said what she thought and shared how she felt with ease like she was in one of those touching scenes in TV shows where the characters actually sat down and had conversations, owning their mistakes, working through conflicts, and showing each other compassion. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost the ability to really open up, and no matter how long she searched through her memories, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that had happened. She was pretty sure it wasn’t one thing that did it but maybe a series of events that made her slowly back away from others and close the door to her heart. Other people had knocked on the door, sometimes trying to kick it down, but there were only two people left in this world who could inevitably get her to throw open the door: her sister and Spike. 

 

Taking a deep breath, she went for the opening-up-to-Spike thing. “They aren’t always the same. I’m almost never diving off the tower or clawing my way out of my grave. But the circumstances – whatever they are – bring up the same feelings.” Peace, fear, suffocation, sorrow, and. . . loss. She left her explanation at that, unsure what to say next.

 

Spike ran his strong fingers over her forearm until he reached her hands, and then, he parted her fingers and slipped his between. She hadn’t even realized she’d been anxiously fidgeting with the sheet. “That makes sense, love. The events themselves don’t matter so much as the emotion that goes with them.”

 

“I-I guess you’re right.” She pulled his arm closer to her body, relishing the feeling of safety that came with it – a stark contrast to being taken from behind on the Bronze balcony. She knew he was the same person, but her reaction to him – their reactions to each other were different so far. And the result was different, too. She trembled but tried to hide it. 

 

His breath bathed her ear, which oddly enough grounded her. “It’s your brain’s way of working out the parts that don’t make sense and that frightened you. Processing the trauma in ways you can’t when you’re awake. At least, not yet.” 

 

“You’ve had them, too,” she said with sudden realization. 

 

“No. Not me, pet.”

 

“Dru.”

 

His next words confirmed her guess. “Loved her Daddy though he’s the one that traumatized her. It’s what the experts call a trauma bond.”

 

“Take a psychology class?”

 

“No, I researched it. Read about it. Snuck into some lecture series about trauma. There were a lot of them around various wars. Called it different things over the years, but it was all the same set of symptoms. Helped me understand my lady.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“She had lots of nightmares when we were together. They didn’t always make sense, but the emotion was always the same.” 

 

“Looks like you’re good at picking out the crazy ones,” Buffy joked.

 

“There’s a difference there.” He sounded certain.

 

“What could it possibly be? Traumatized by dying and coming back again. Probably have a trauma bond with Angel.” Whoa. Buffy had never thought about it that way. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what a trauma bond with Angel meant for her. And what did that say about Spike that he was drawn to the same broken woman every time? Did he have a trauma bond with Dru? 

 

There was some tension in his voice and in his body. “The difference is you’re stronger than my ex. You fought back. You didn’t let what happened break you though it might have felt like it did. How else did you have the fortitude to shove a sword in his gut and send him to hell?”

 

“You know all that?” She had no memory of telling him this.

 

“What do you think I did while I was at Rupert’s? I was stuck there with nothing to do for hours on end and no cable. Read those bleeding diaries he wrote. Strained my eyes, too. Even with enhanced vampire vision. His penmanship is basically illegible.”

 

Buffy was confused. “How did you read when you were tied to a chair or chained in the bathtub?”

 

“Well, when I was tied to the bloody chair, I had my hands free a lot of the time, and in case you forgot, I was wandering around the apartment quite freely after a while. Didn’t think I could fend for myself until I hit that demon bloke.” 

 

“I-I forgot. I’m sorry.”

 

“Well, I didn’t.” She wished he didn’t seem so angry.

 

She tried to keep his perspective in mind. “It was hard on you.”

 

“Damn right, it was.” He let go of her hand, and the absence of his touch made her heart ache.

 

She felt herself losing her grip on understanding. “You were still plotting against us.”

 

“Not very effectively.”

 

“And you’re not now.”

 

“No, no, I’m really not.” His tone was resigned. “And fine good job you’re doing of distracting me from what I know about you.”

 

“I’m not avoiding it. I heard you. I’m strong, stronger than Dru because I’m not talking in riddles or dancing when there is no music or sleeping with the person who hurt me so badly. I’m a bastion of strength.” God, she didn’t feel strong – not at all – even though she’d gotten through the worst of the depression. Though she’d done her best, that last year in Sunnydale hadn’t exactly been conducive to healing with the First Evil breathing down their necks.

 

“Yes. And you don’t have to be. You’re not going to lose yourself to the dying and coming back again. . . . to the loss of heaven. I’m not going to let you, and neither is Dawn. You can lean on us. Bloody hell, woman, I’ll make you lean on me if I have to.” He was suddenly close again, his hand gripping hers again but this time so tightly it hurt. His furious resolve was both reassuring and a little frightening. 

 

She didn’t want to go down that path. Not again. “O-okay. No forcing of any kind needed. I will do my best to let myself lean on you.” She loosened his hold and rolled over as a swirl of unnamable emotions hit her like a tidal wave. With her last remaining shred of control, she pressed a deliberate kiss to his cotton-covered chest and managed, “Case in point. Now.” 

 

Wrapping both arms around his waist, Buffy clung to him as the tears flowed seemingly out of nowhere. The release of emotions surprised her and probably Spike because she felt all the tightness in his muscles dissipate. His hands stroked her back and shaking shoulders in soothing motions as she sobbed, as she lost herself in the mound of emotions that had been piling up for months – no, years. He didn’t make a sound and just showed with touch and physicality that he was there with her, which wasn’t like soulless him – not really, but then again, maybe she didn’t let him be that way with her until after the soul. And wasn’t this trip supposed to be about him? About showing how much she cared about him? How was this helping him at all? She wasn’t toeing the line. She was wrecking everything. This was not supposed to go this way. Not at all. 

 

Just as Buffy was about to pull away and clamber out of the bed, she felt another arm go around her from behind, the plaster of the cast rigid against her back. Dawn hugged her tightly until Buffy was sandwiched between the vampire and the key – two people who loved her. Hot tears spilled forth anew as she let go of her anxious thoughts and went with the emotion, and she turned onto her back to embrace the love and support that she’d been needing for so long – her pain invisible no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! As you can see, there are lots of little changes going on. Thank you again from both of us for your wonderful comments and support with likes!


	10. And Yet Some Things Remain the Same - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays from both of us to all who celebrate! 
> 
> I'm a bit behind in posting this fic because I've been working on my Which Willow fic, which if you like Willow, check out all the stories this season! Mine's a Spike and Willow fic - not a romance; they're a fun pair to write. And I'm also working on a Christmas-y Spuffy fic for Noel of Spike! :o) 
> 
> Re: the mood board...how did Badwolfjedi find that amazing ugly button up and the hand over hand image? *is blown away*

 

_Dawn_

 

Sucking on the last green peanut M&M, Dawn studied her arm in its heavy cast. Well, it wasn’t yet, but it would be. The stupid thing had been itchy and uncomfortable the first time, and she hated bathing with it. She glared at the plaster as if it was intent on torturing her. 

 

Spike sat next to her on the edge of her bed, having split one of the bags of M&Ms with her. Unlike the cast and broken bone, his presence here was also new. Dawn had asked him to stay while Buffy talked with Willow, and this Buffy had been too tired to argue. Plus, Dawn considered that maybe this new version of her sister wanted Spike around even if she didn’t ask. 

 

“How’s the arm feeling?” Spike asked her. “Pain meds wearing off?”

 

How’d he know? Vampire psychic powers? She chewed and swallowed the now chocolate free peanut. “Uh huh.” The dull ache she’d been trying to ignore asserted itself now that the candy-distraction was done, and she gathered her arm closer as if that would ease the throbbing. 

 

Spike rummaged around in the sack from the pharmacy, pulling out a prescription bottle. He squinted at the label. “You can take one of these every six hours.” Expertly twirling the bottle open, he passed her a small pill.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Need some water?”

 

She shook her head. She didn’t want to move, and she didn’t want Spike to move. “Stay.” The word was weightier than she intended.

 

He studied her sideways. “I’m not going anywhere. Did you think I was?”

 

She shrugged and found herself rolling the small pill between two fingers. Her eyes filled with tears. He’d gone before. She’d been so alone. “You’re not around as much.” The pill tripped from her fingers to the ground, bouncing and rolling away. 

 

Spike almost immediately squatted to the floor, his sharp eyesight lasering in on the medicine and retrieving it. He gazed up at her. “Nibblet.”

 

She sniffed and wiped away the tears on one cheek. “Yeah?” 

 

“Do you think I stopped caring about you?”

 

Had she? Dawn pulled up memories from the last year in Sunnydale. He’d stayed far far away from her – a distance that started when Buffy came back. Dawn had been angry of course – livid at how he’d treated her sister. She didn’t understand why Buffy was soft on him; she just heard that her sister was hurt and went with that. She regretted her immovable judgment based on too little information, but she hadn’t realized what was buried under her anger and regret. “Maybe.”

 

Spike’s forearm draped over his higher thigh. He sighed and moved to rejoin her on the bed. “I’m tempted to say that I’ve never stopped caring, but that doesn’t take into account that I haven’t been present. And I’ve always been a firm believer in actions speaking louder than words.” 

 

Dawn found herself being petulant. The feeling was born of the actions of his later self, but she found herself hung up on the loneliness from that fall, too. It lingered there in the background – a melancholy aftertaste. “And you haven’t been around. For me, at least.”

 

“Probably feels a bit like your father, eh?” Dawn forgot that she’d shared that with him over the summer when Buffy was gone.

 

Dawn scoffed and elbowed him. “Don’t go analyzing me like some therapist. You’re nothing like my dad.” Spike was so far from being like her dad that she was a little surprised the vampire had drawn the comparison.

 

“To the outside observer, it might seem that way. Disappearing. Not checking on you after this past season unless there was some sort of danger in your path.” Spike wasn’t letting himself off the hook. 

 

“So, what? Are you apologizing? Didn’t you just say that words are words?” Dawn had no idea why she was responding with so much irritation because her feelings were all a muddle of past and future.

 

“I did at that.” Spike paused. “I could make more of an effort to be with you.” He sounded uncertain – a side Dawn knew he rarely showed. 

 

Tears marred her vision. “O-okay. I’d like that.”

 

Spike put a brotherly arm around her shoulders and gently hugged her. “Me caring about you. It’s for more than just a promise I made your big sis. You know that, right?”

 

Dawn knew this was true. Spike had been there for her even before his promise. “I know.” Her arm throbbed, so she held out her uninjured arm. “Pill me.”

 

He dropped the pain reliever in her hand and stood, gesturing at the bed. “You relax. Get into something comfortable and under the covers. I’ll get you some water.”

 

She smiled and gratefully acquiesced. “Okay. Bathroom. There’s a glass there.”

 

Spike hesitated in the doorway and softly hit the door frame with his palm. “Got it.”

 

As soon as he left, Dawn awkwardly slipped off her jeans and tugged on her pajama bottoms. They’d had to cut off the sweater she’d been wearing. One of her favorites. Another thing to re-resent Willow for. The nurse had somehow produced an ugly button up shirt. Dawn decided that was good enough. She’d figure out the shirt sitch tomorrow. Sliding under the covers, she laid her head on the pillow, deciding that her pillow never felt quite so good. 

 

Spike appeared with the water and helped her prop up a little to swallow the pill. Then, he tucked her in, bringing the covers up to her chin. “Get some shut-eye, Bit.”

 

Dawn felt the insistence of sleep pulling on her consciousness. “Stay until I fall asleep?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“And tell me what they’re talking about?” She tried not to sound too curious.

 

Spike studied her face and smirked, a twinkle appearing in his blue eyes. This made her think of all the times she’d talked him into doing something they both knew she shouldn’t be doing. . . breaking and entering, hanging out in his crypt for scary vampire stories, stealing demon eggs to foolishly complete resurrection spells. To name a few. “That I can do.”

 

Dawn moved her right arm behind her head on the pillow and waited, watching Spike’s face shift to an expression of intention as he tuned in to the conversation. 

 

“Red’s crying. Sounds pretty wretched.”

 

“Good.” Dawn’s inflection was half-hearted. She’d been so angry with Willow she couldn’t see straight before, but knowing what was to come, she knew her friend was hurting and would hurt even more in the not so distant future. 

 

Spike listened some more, and something akin to awe crossed over his features. “Your sister’s letting her have it.”

 

“Really?” Dawn strained to hear any hint of conflict. 

 

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Well, she was about to tell her about what things have been like for her, but she’s totally backed off now. Protecting Willow.”

 

“Oh. Seems to be a theme.” Dawn’s disappointment was obvious. She shouldn’t feel that way because they weren’t supposed to disturb the timeline too much, but still. Her anger flared hot and anew. “She shouldn’t protect her like that. Not completely.”

 

“You think someone should be harder on her for the magic misuse?” Spike’s tone was tinged with amusement.

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“Your sis will get to it when she’s ready,” Spike said softly. “And if you feel that strongly, maybe you should have a talk with Red, too.”

 

“Buffy better hurry up and get ready.” A wave of grief almost overcame Dawn, and she swallowed hard, trying not to imagine Tara’s wounded, lifeless body in the room where her sister and Willow were talking. “And maybe I should.”

 

Spike tilted his head at her. “What do you mean about getting ready, pidge?” 

 

Dawn couldn’t form words and shook her head. Spike gingerly touched her arm above the cast and waited. Dawn found that his touch allowed her to regroup – the same way Tara’s had. “Someone could die,” she said in a rush and then hastily amended, “or get hurt worse than I did tonight.”

 

“Afraid you’re gonna lose Buffy again?”

 

Dawn shook her head harder, and this time, tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose someone I care about. In general. Not just Buffy.” Like Tara and Anya. Like Spike. Dawn stared up at him with fierce determination mixed with grief. “I-I can’t lose anyone else.”

 

“You’ve lost the two most important people in your life in the past year.” With more to come shortly.

 

“My fake, monk-created life.” Where the heck had that come from? Dawn-of-then peeking through?

 

Spike set his jaw. “Created or not, your life is real to me. Still remember the early days. When I made a truce with the Slayer to end Angelus. You were young but brave. Strong like your mum and sis. Sat on that sofa next to your mum despite her not so effective attempts to send you upstairs.” 

 

“She’d just heard about Buffy. She was entitled. I knew all along.” In reaction to Spike’s expression, Dawn shrugged her shoulder. “Well, mostly all along. Buffy thinks she’s sneaky but she really isn’t. Plus, little sister’s snoop. It’s like in the little sister guidebook to tormenting older siblings or something.”

 

Spike was unfazed. “That’s ‘cause you’re smart. Observant.”

 

“You could tell all that even though I was wearing my ultra-pink Hello Kitty pajamas and had my hair in braids?”

 

The corner of Spike’s mouth went up. “Yeah. I could. It’s what I do. Hunter and all. Suss out my surroundings. . . and my prey. Especially considering your sis left me with the two of you to make that phone call of hers.” 

 

“Mom and I were prey?” 

 

It was Spike’s turn to shrug. “I didn’t know you then like I do now. More I knew about you and your mum, the more I thought of you as. . . 'friends' isn’t the right word.”

 

“Family,” Dawn said in an echo of her recent (newish old?) conversation with Tara. “Maybe not to Mom but to me.” Her mom had been solidly in the ambivalent camp about the vampire. She hadn’t liked the stalker-y vibe that crushing-on-Buffy Spike had. “Shouldn’t get to know your food. Bad policy. I don’t get friendly with anchovies. Or cows.”

 

“Solid advice. Though there are some very big differences between cows and humans.”

 

“Less so with humans and vampires,” Dawn continued, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling.

 

Something in Spike’s eyes shifted, but Dawn couldn’t decipher it. “Family, huh?”

 

She smiled at him. “Yeah. I’m a mystical key. Have to make my own family now that I’m all human and stuff.” She yawned, her eyes feeling definitively heavier. She closed them. “Got Buffy and the others. And I choose you, too.”

 

When Spike didn’t respond, Dawn summoned the energy and re-opened them to find Spike gazing at the doorway. Her sister stood there. Her fingers lingered on the doorframe as she watched them both. Dawn decided that Spike looked a little panicked – kind of like he had when Buffy had found him laughing with Mom and her about the gallery. 

 

“Thank you,” Buffy said, addressing Spike, “for helping tonight.”

 

“Of course, pet.” Dawn saw the open love for her sister all over his face. 

 

Spike stood, his weight lifting off the bed and leaving behind some sadness in Dawn’s heart. “Everything okay?”

 

Buffy twisted her mouth to one side. “As it can be. On the fence about letting Willow stay. I’m so angry, but she’s a mess. I get that. The being a mess thing. And I think we have some social worker coming next week from social services. I don’t remember what day. Should Willow be here? I have no idea. I mean, it’s not really kicking her out permanently. Just asking her to give us a little time. It’ll give us all some space. That’s not kicking her out, right?”

 

“You don’t have to decide tonight. A lot’s happened.” 

 

“Yeah. I think we all need. . . . I don’t know what we need.” Buffy hugged her elbows.

 

“Some sleep might help everyone.” He glanced pointedly at Dawn who yawned again as if on cue. “I’ll be on my way.” He made a move to edge around Buffy. 

 

Buffy reached out and placed a hand on his chest. “No. Stay.”

 

Dawn held her breath, wishing that this Buffy would wrap her arms around the vampire and hug him. Instead, her hand lingered on his chest, not moving. 

 

“Stay?” There was so much hope in that singular word – almost the same as when Dawn had called him family.

 

“Yeah. The sun’s coming up soon. And there’s a cot in the basement. No sun. And there are blankets in the hall closet.” 

 

“Got lots of experience dodging sunbeams.” What was Spike doing? Dawn thought he was crazy. Then, she decided he was pushing for more explanation about what the invitation meant. Her younger self would have stepped in here and insisted with Buffy, but for some reason, she held back. She wanted to see what this Buffy would do.

 

“Stay,” Buffy insisted. “I’d feel better if you were here. I know Dawn would, too.” Buffy’s eyes flicked to Dawn, who nodded, holding her broken arm close. She hadn’t been able to sleep the first time this happened for lots of reasons. 

 

“Make me breakfast?” Dawn asked. On the rare occasion, Spike had made her breakfast when Buffy was gone. He’d been more available for the middle of the night cookie baking. Tara and Willow had often made a breakfast feast for her even if everyone just picked at it. 

 

“She hasn’t been eating breakfast like she should.” Buffy lifted her eyebrows at Dawn.

 

“Neither have you,” Dawn fired back with half-hearted vim. 

 

Spike covered Buffy’s unmoving hand with his own, or Dawn thought he did. She really didn’t have a good vantage point. “All right. Since you both asked, I’ll stay. Make sure you both eat breakfast.”

 

“Yay,” Dawn murmured, eyes gratefully falling shut. 

 

“Let me show you where everything is,” Buffy whispered. 

 

Spike’s voice was low and rumbly. “Thank you.”

 

Someone turned off Dawn’s lamp, and she dozed for who knew how long before falling asleep, only waking once. A glance at her clock told her that it was hours later – still night. The street light was the only glow peeking around her blinds. She heard Buffy’s feet hit the creaking stairs at the top of the staircase. She wondered if her sister had been talking with Spike or kissing him or both. Either way, that had to be of the good. Dawn smiled to herself and surrendered again to dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all your support! *big hugs*  
> sandy_s and Badwolfjedi
> 
> The cow comment is a reference to a joke about Dru eating cows in Taking Chances and the cow blood needed for the ritual in A Small Boat on the Ocean.


	11. And Yet Some Things Remain the Same - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I'm back on regular schedule to write and post. Daycare has been closed for three and a half weeks because it flooded and my family's schedule has been incredibly unsettled and wonky. Thank you for your patience! A structure is of the good. 
> 
> Also, this chapter took an unexpected turn with Xander, and I hope you like it. (It's been written for a while, but I haven't had time to write new chapters, which I like to do before posting new. I'm currently writing chapter nine.) 
> 
> Happy New Year!

_Buffy_

 

“What the hell is this?” 

 

Buffy was startled awake, and she felt her vampire and her sister also jump a little. Xander was here! And somewhere along the way, her sobs had ended, and she, Dawn, and Spike had fallen fast asleep again, cuddled together like kittens. Xander’s contempt and hurt were raw and unfettered and so fitting for the Xander of that time. Buffy didn’t remember it being quite so harsh. It was before he’d screwed up and confronted his own demons and then softened around the edges when a soulful, vulnerable Spike moved into his closet and Anya struggled with being a vengeance demon again. 

 

Buffy felt her stomach sink as she sat up, and she was suddenly grateful to be invisible so that Xander couldn’t see her tears. She swiped her hand over her tear-stained cheeks anyway, trying to cover the tracks though she had no idea why. 

 

Spike found his voice first, matching her friend’s anger with sarcasm and a hint of protectiveness. “What’s it look like? You’ve never seen someone sleeping?”

 

Dawn piped up next, trying to ease the emotional tension with a logical explanation. “I-I was tired. We all just laid down for a minute and fell asleep.” 

 

Xander narrowed his eyes and gestured emphatically at the bed. “So, this is what? A threesome? Because that’s more than a little sick even for the bleached wonder – ”

 

“Xander!” Buffy’s voice was tight with irritation – irritation that hid how stopped up her nose was from her sob-fest. “There’s a line. We’re not doing anything but – ” 

 

“A line which you’ve crossed! I’m sick to death of us not talking about what’s really going on! And I’m not stupid. You may think I don’t notice, but since you’ve come back, you’ve changed. You’re palling around with Spike – a soulless vampire. And yeah, Willow told me that he stayed over the other night when you could have sent him on back to his crypt. Not exactly a good example for your little sister.”`

 

“Hey! I have my own mind,” Dawn insisted from her spot on the bed, gripping her cast with her good hand and lifting her chin high despite her jumbled hair. “I’m not so young and impressionable. W-well, I’m young.”

 

Buffy was impressed with her sister. She still didn’t know if this was her Dawn, but Buffy decided that she probably wasn’t. There’d been no code word thrown out (but Buffy hadn’t thrown one out either), and there was something about her demeanor that felt younger, something that made Buffy’s heart constrict a little. A tidbit of information appeared in her mind. “The social worker seemed fine with our home inspection.” 

 

Well, that was interesting. Spike and Dawn had helped her rid the house of candles and other paraphernalia like the baggie of magic weed, and Willow had been gone on her temporary break from the Summers house before Mrs. Kroger even thought about showing up for the scheduled visit. 

 

Xander’s face flushed. “A social worker who doesn’t know a thing about Slayers and vampires and the supernatural! If she knew the truth – ” 

 

Spike interrupted, slipping out of the bed and revealing that he was indeed fully clothed – a contrast to his near constant nakedness in the last timeline. “The truth about what? The truth about how the rest of you had no problem letting me take care of Dawn all summer while you plotted how to bring Buffy back without telling her sister at the very least? Or Rupert? Much as the man is annoying and pigheaded, he knows better than to mess with the forces that you did.” 

 

“You’re just angry because we didn’t tell you. How can you possibly think we owe anything to you? You tried to kill Buffy, stalked her, chained her up, and threatened her. You had a robot designed to look like her for crying out loud. And you had sex with it.” 

 

Spike flinched – a subtle shift, and then, he said with some bravado, “I’ve changed.”

 

“Bullshit. Don’t tell me you’re not still trying to get in her pants. I mean, look at this. You’ve got the sheets and the candles.” Xander sniffed theatrically. “Vanilla. You do know that Buffy hates the scent of vanilla? What you’re doing is so obvious it’s painful. And now you’ve dragged Dawn into it!” 

 

Spike lost it then – that shred of hold he had over his senses was gone, and before Buffy could make sense of the change, he was in Xander’s face – millimeters from smashing him into the wall. Every muscle was taut and Spike’s jaw was clenched as rage blazed in his eyes. The chip was the only thing holding him back. “Like you aren’t hoping for the same.” 

 

Buffy reached up, running her fingers along Spike’s cool bare forearm, and he jerked a little but relaxed under her touch. She set her left hand on Xander’s tight shoulder. She thought he might shake it off, but instead, he sighed. She kept her volume low. “This pissing match is so not helpful right now. I’m invisible, and I’m in danger of being pudding. I don’t really want to be pudding.” 

 

“Yeah,” Dawn said, moving up behind Buffy. “Where are Willow and Anya?” 

 

Xander’s brown eyes flashed with worry. “I-I don’t know. We were supposed to meet back up at the Magic Box and then come here, but they never showed. And I made them both promise that before they investigated anything, we’d meet up and all go together.” 

 

Buffy considered that Xander’s fears about losing someone else he loved were heightened, and then, he’d found his other girls cuddled up with a vampire. In Xander’s mind, that was tantamount to the end of the world. She stepped back from Xander but let her hand linger on Spike’s arm before slipping down to clasp his hand. A memory of kissing him in the basement rose up – slow, lingering kisses that had set her aflame with need. She shook her head – a minute shake. Must not think about kissing Spike. Still, she flagged the memory in her mind. The non-desperate kissing was new, and past her had instigated it. She almost smiled but didn’t. “Let’s go by the house. Maybe they’re there?”

 

“Or they left a message?” Dawn added. 

 

Buffy suddenly remembered the phone call from Jonathan about having Willow captive at the video arcade. But there’d been some slight changes in timeline events – well, more than slight changes, and now she was confused. “Let’s check the messages for sure.” 

 

Dawn hopped from one foot to the other, her blue eyes pleading. “I don’t want to stay here. I need to know what’s happening.” 

 

Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand but addressed Dawn with a lingering message in there for Xander. “We’re all going.” 

 

“Let’s go then,” Xander said evenly, gesturing toward the ladder. 

 

Dawn went up first, and Xander followed. Buffy waited, and Spike looked in her general direction. 

 

“Bloody hell, Slayer,” he whispered. “It’s disconcerting not to be able to see you. What’s holding you back?”

 

Buffy really wasn’t sure, so she whispered, “I-I don’t hate vanilla.”

 

Spike softened, the residual anger at Xander dissipating. “It’s okay, love. He’s right to point it out.” Spike glanced around his bedroom and pressed his lips together. “Guess I am trying a little bit too hard.” This is where Spike-from-her-timeline would have pleadingly asked her if it meant anything to her, or he would have flared again at the reminder of what Xander had said only moments ago. But this Spike? He left his sentence there. 

 

“Xander will come around.” She hoped. 

 

“Around to what exactly?” 

 

Buffy supposed she should have expected some push back from Spike. Was it still too soon to declare how much she longed to be with him? Probably. “You being around more. He’ll just have to deal that we’re getting closer.” They were, weren’t they? She got the sense of a soft warm glow when she experienced her past self’s emotions regarding the vampire. 

 

He hadn’t let go of her hand – the one concrete tie to her with her invisibleness. Now, he clasped her hand tighter and then let go, sweeping his now free arm toward the ladder. “Ladies first.”

 

She couldn’t help but grin at the gentlemanly gesture that used to disgust her and made her way up. 

 

The journey home was a quiet one – tension thick in the air for many reasons, but Buffy did manage to throw out a “tadpole” at Dawn who gave her a funny look that said this was not her Dawn. Buffy wasn’t surprised but managed to push aside her disappointment to focus on the moment. Xander and Spike were civil enough that once they heard the message from Jonathan on the answering machine, they agreed that Spike would stay behind with Dawn while Buffy and Xander went to the bowling alley. Change of venue apparently.

 

Buffy was quiet as a mouse on their journey to Gutter Ball Bowling. They were walking because Xander had left his car at his apartment in his latest attempt to walk everywhere for the purposes of getting in shape for the wedding-that-wouldn’t-be. Xander’s shoulders had relaxed a little more since it was just the two of him, and Buffy thought that maybe she could find a way to talk with him about the mountain of things that were unsaid between them. But the more she thought about it, the more she talked herself out of saying anything. 

 

Halfway to their destination, they stopped for a string of cars to drive by, and Xander finally broke the proverbial ice. “So. If you don’t talk to me at all, I won’t know if you’re still there, and I’m gonna have to backtrack calling your name and look like the complete idiot I am.” His bit of self-deprecation at the end eased Buffy’s own anxiety.

 

She laughed. “I’m here.” 

 

He peered in her general direction. His dark eyes were unreadable in the shadows. “Should have suggested that you carry something.” 

 

Buffy hunted around and saw a discarded, not too dirty-looking diet Coke can. Scooping the aluminum up, she held it toward Xander. “Better?”

 

“Much.”

 

Their moment came, and they hurried across the now vacant street. As her foot hit the sidewalk on the opposite side, he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

 

Buffy’s response was quick and instinctual. “It’s okay.”

 

“Actually, it’s not okay. And I’m sorry.” 

 

Buffy really wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. “It probably did look kinda weird. Walking in with all three of us in bed.”

 

“That’s not it. Well, that was incredibly weird, yes, but I meant for bringing you back.” Oh! “You have to know that we didn’t know where – ” He stopped; she knew he couldn’t even say they’d brought her back from heaven. He started again, “You have to know that we. . . I wouldn’t have gone along with it.” He paused and closed his eyes briefly, and when he reopened them, Buffy saw that they were softened with tears. “I wouldn’t have pushed for it. Buffy. I love you. You’re one of my best friends. I never wanted to hurt you like that. And I know I have.” 

 

A swirl of emotions wrapped its way around her torso, and a lump filled her throat. She had no idea what to say because they’d all so cleverly avoided talking about it last time. She swallowed. “W-why now?” That was all she could manage. This was the apology she never knew she needed, and it felt. . . . She still couldn’t parse the emotions out.

 

“Maybe it’s crazy because Anya and Willow are in trouble, and you’re in danger of disappearing completely, so it shouldn’t be top priority. But maybe that’s also why? If something happened to any one of you, I’d regret. . . regret not saying anything sooner.” Xander stuffed both hands into the pockets of his jacket and squinted as a random wind blew a blast of coldness over them both. 

 

Buffy shivered and brought the soda can in close to try and preserve some heat. “I guess that makes sense.”

 

“Giles talked to us, you know. That night when you told us about where you’d been.”

 

This was new! Or maybe it wasn’t new. Maybe he’d talked with them before, and Buffy had never known. She didn’t say anything and waited for him to continue.

 

His next words came out in a cascading tumble, and Buffy had a hard time wrapping her mind around them. “I don’t know why he wasn’t so angry before, but maybe he was just seeing you through that grief lens. I think we all were, and we just wanted you to be okay. I just wanted you to be okay because having you back meant we could all be okay again. We could go back to how things were before. And then, when you told us, he was angry. Giles is pretty intense when he’s angry as you probably know. Preaching to the choir. He doesn’t get angry often. Maybe it’s a repressed British thing? But when he does? My dad is angry a lot, and I just sort of learned to tune him out when he’s drunk and not making any sense or calling me a disappointment. But Giles? I listen to him. I-I don’t know how much I was able to take in at the time ‘cause well, there was the whole demon summoning thing, too. He wasn’t happy about that either, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it. What we did to you. Usually in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. And. . . I’m sorry.” 

 

A tear slipped over his cheek then, and Buffy found herself hugging her friend in the middle of the sidewalk on the way to rescue two of her other friends. Anyone passing by would probably think it looked crazy – some strange guy hugging the air, but the embrace felt anything but intangible. 

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her cheek was mashed against his chest, and her words came out a little muffled. 

 

“I love you, Buffy,” he repeated. 

 

“I know. I love you, too.” Buffy knew he needed her to be okay, but she also knew that her past self wasn’t okay. Not yet. And she honestly didn’t know until his little speech that maybe her current self wasn’t either. She sort of knew but didn’t. “A-and I’m not okay. You should know that. I don’t know when I will be, but I’m working on it, I guess?” This whole time travel thing was turning out to be something healing for her, too, and that was strange to admit in her mind. 

 

“It’s okay, Buff. Just be where you are.”

 

“We should go. And talk more later?” Buffy wanted to talk with him about Spike, but there was still too much edge there. 

 

“Yes.” Xander let her go and offered her a half-smile. “We should hurry.” 

 

They took off then, Buffy charging ahead just fast enough that Xander could keep up. The wielded aluminum can led the way, glinting in the soft yellow streetlights.


	12. Chapter Seven, Screw-ups Ensue - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so behind on replies on EF but do know that we appreciate each comment and we will be working on replying to all of them! So thank you thank you thank you! I have been writing like crazy and am halfway through Chapter 10.

_Dawn_

 

“Dawn Summers?” The student messenger stood in the doorway to her algebra class with a smirk on his freckled face. “You’re needed in the counselor’s office.”

 

“Miss Summers, go ahead,” Mrs. Andrews said, looking over her bifocals at her. Her monotone didn’t even vary from her lecture voice.

 

“Okay.” Dawn clapped her book closed, eager to forget that she was again sitting through a lesson on quadratic equations. It didn’t help that the lesson was out of context and that her arm was aching. Buffy had made her go to school the day after she had her arm broken. This wasn’t new; it was part of Buffy insisting that she do normal things despite the not normal nature of their lives. Scooping her book and papers into her backpack, Dawn tried not to appear too eager for the change of pace.

 

The redheaded senior handed her the hall pass, and Dawn was expecting him to walk her to the counselor. Instead, as soon as the door to the classroom was closed, he took off in the opposite direction, pausing to walk backward a few steps. “You know the way to the shrink’s office, right?” 

 

Dawn could tell by his tone that he wanted to distance himself not just physically but from anyone who was deemed just a little bit crazy by the student body. She didn’t even bother to respond to him as he disappeared around the corner but did find herself rolling her eyes at the stupidity of some teenaged boys. 

 

As she hurried toward the counselor’s office, it dawned on her that this meeting was coming earlier than she remembered. Uh oh. What did that mean? Dawn stopped near the cafeteria, uncertainty making her want to slip out the side hallway and go home. She’d missed a lot of school. What was one more day? She suddenly wished she could call Buffy just to run it by her, but this Buffy wasn’t her Buffy and couldn’t provide the reassurance Dawn needed. Despite Buffy not being the right Buffy, Dawn had cherished the morning breakfast with Buffy and Spike. Dawn had caught her sister and the vampire sneaking glances at one another when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It was kinda cute. 

 

A teacher that Dawn recognized but didn’t know came down the hall with purpose in his step and a stack of books in his arms. He paused by her. “Where are you headed? Need any help?” He tried to nudge his glasses up with his shoulder but failed. 

 

Dawn held up her hall pass with one hand and hooked her other under her backpack strap. “Going to the counselor’s office.”

 

“Well, don’t loiter in the halls.” The teacher shifted the stack of books and ignored his slipping glasses, seemingly really seeing Dawn for the first time. “Don’t worry. Ms. Hallie is very nice. Easy to talk with.”

 

Great. The counselor was the vengeance demon, and she was early. Dawn wondered if Anya knew Hallie was here; she hadn’t last time. “O-okay.”

“I’ll walk with you,” the teacher offered. Well, it was less of an offer and more of a demand. Guess he didn’t trust that she was going. 

 

Dawn tried to appear nonchalant. “Sure. Want me to carry some of those?” 

 

The teacher smiled with gratitude. “Thank you. That’d be a big help.”

 

Dawn grabbed five of the many books and let herself be escorted to the office. 

 

As soon as they entered, the administrative assistant jumped to her feet, tucking her glasses into the top of her blouse. “Harry! I mean, Mr. Amin, I told you I’d get a cart for you.”

 

Mr. Amin shrugged. “You were busy on the phone, Tina. And I managed to get it handled with a little assistance.” He smiled at Dawn.

 

Tina hurried to the closet with a key. As she slid the metal home, Mr. Amin set his volumes on the counter and relieved Dawn of her burden. “Thank you.” 

 

Dawn smiled. She inanely wondered what happened to this kind man the next year. She hoped he had escaped the destruction of Sunnydale. “You’re welcome.”

 

“Ms. Hallie’s office is just down that way.” 

 

Dawn knew exactly where to go. She sighed.

 

Mr. Amin seemed to read her like a book – second pun not intended. At least, he picked up on her dread. “You’ll be fine.”

 

Dawn took a deep breath. “Thanks.” Then, she pivoted and walked to her doom. How was she going to handle this?

 

The door was open, and Hallie was there, her curly hair framing her bright, eager face – a face that was a mask for the vein-y, scary demon underneath. “Hi!” Hallie said with enthusiasm. “You must be Dawn Summers.”

 

Hesitating in the doorway, Dawn watched Hallie with what she hoped came across as reasonable teenage suspicion of adults and particularly counselors. “Yeah. I’m Dawn.” She showed her the slip of paper. “Good guess.” 

 

“Come in! Have a seat.” Hallie gestured at the uncomfortable looking chair in front of her desk. “No need to be shy. And I promise I won’t turn you into a frog or anything.”

 

A little bubble of almost too loud and ironic laughter pushed past Dawn’s lips. Stupid! She avoided Hallie’s gaze and let her favorite blue backpack slip to the floor as she sat on the cracked, fake leather cushion. Dawn studied her hands in her lap. 

 

Hallie leaned forward on her open forearms and gently said, “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet with me.”

 

“Sorta.” Dawn thought that came out meek enough. 

 

“You’ve had a really rough year or longer, and I’m really sorry that no one from the counseling staff here at the school checked in with you before. I’m new here – in the last month or so, and I’ve been going through student files. Someone should have at least checked on you.” Dawn could tell Hallie was trying to create an us-against-them vibe. So painfully obvious. 

 

“I’m fine,” she insisted, channeling herself of old, and well, her current self, too. She was stronger now; she’d worked through a lot in a short time. A stronger relationship with Buffy had definitely helped.

 

Hallie tilted her head just slightly and softened her voice further. “Well, you’ve gone through a lot with your mother being so ill and then passing. I heard that you broke down at school when you found out.”

 

Anger arrowed through Dawn’s chest, and she glared at the vengeance demon. “So? Wouldn’t you if your mom died?” She had no idea how long ago Hallie’s human mom must have died.

 

Hallie lifted a hand. “Yeah. I would have. It wasn’t a criticism of you. Promise. Just pointing out how you are going through a lot.”

 

“I was going through a lot. As in the past.” Dawn couldn’t keep the irritation at bay.

 

Hallie pressed her lips together in a half-smile. “Loss like that doesn’t just disappear or stay in the past. Grief isn’t a straight road.” 

 

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Hallie sat back. She’d better back off. “I’m not meaning to do that.”

 

“But?” Dawn met her eyes with a fierceness she didn’t realize she had in her. Well, maybe she did. She’d more than learned how to stand up for herself in the last year even though she’d made mistakes.

 

“We do look at how you’re functioning.” Hallie’s hand went to a computer mouse, and she clicked on something on the screen. “And your grades have dropped significantly and stayed low. You’ve had a number of absences at sporadic times, and you’re rapidly approaching the maximum number of days you can miss before you have to repeat a grade.”

 

Was that even a thing? Dawn had no idea. She’d always been a good student, and her mom had made sure she and Buffy never missed a day of school unless they had something like a fever or lots of vomiting and diarrhea. “Oh. I’m working on pulling them up. The grades, I mean.” Dawn thought she was, but she really wasn’t sure. She’d done homework with Tara! Did that count?

 

“So, even if you don’t want to talk with me about what’s really going on with you, we still have to talk about these concrete, school-related things.”

 

“Why?”

 

Hallie folded her hands on the desk. Her gaze was steadfast. “Believe it or not, I really want to help you.” 

 

Dawn decided that the vengeance demon was definitely genuine about that. She thought granting Dawn’s wish would help her, and maybe it had. Her shoplifting had been uncovered, and everyone knew how much she’d been struggling with everything. She’d been ashamed and upset, but she also felt oddly relieved to be caught. She was getting a little of that vibe now. “O-okay. But how could you possibly help?” Other than by trying to force me to make a wish that ends in badness? ‘Cause don’t even try that one on me, lady. 

 

The corners of Hallie’s mouth went up a little and then fell as she nodded at Dawn’s broken arm. “What happened?”

 

Crap. “I accidentally fell down the stairs.” Oh, that’s just brilliant, Dawn. 

 

But the vengeance demon didn’t take it the way Dawn expected. “Ouch. I broke my arm once. So painful.”

 

Dawn shrugged. “Yeah. It does hurt. I think I was more shocked than anything. I’m not usually that clumsy. I took dance for like forever.” She intentionally bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from rattling on. “But I was running down the hall. Like my sister always warns me not to do.” So, no need to call CPS. It’s already been done, and they’re coming for a visit. 

 

“Well, I’m sorry you got hurt.” Her eyes were warm.

 

That was kinda nice to hear. “Thanks.”

 

Hallie moved her arms back a little. “So, I read that your mom was here and your dad lives out of town?”

 

“Yeah. And he’s really not involved.” Dawn and Buffy had had slightly different timelines in becoming estranged from their dad, but the end result was the same: neither of them even talked with him. He’d barely been in touch since their mom’s death. 

 

“Has he given up custody of you?” 

 

Dawn frowned. Where was Hallie going with all of these questions? And why didn’t Dawn know the answer to the custody question? Blood pounding in her ears, she made a split decision on the side of sounding confident. “Yeah. And Buffy’s an adult now, so she’s raising me.”

 

“She’s not around much though, right? She came to one meeting at the beginning of the school year. I mean, someone else drops you off at school and picks you up? I heard she doesn’t drive.” 

 

“Why are you asking these things?” Dawn snapped.

 

Hallie held her palms toward Dawn. “I’m sorry. I’m just checking on you. Seeing how you feel about the status quo.” 

 

“The status quo is just fine. I don’t want to live with my dad if that’s what you’re hinting needs to happen.” 

 

“I got that you want to live with your sister and that you really don’t want to live with your father.” The vengeance demon paused as if considering what to say next. Was that a sparkle of something in her eye? “He must have really hurt you.”

 

“He did. But nothing more than a typical divorced parent who distances himself from stuff. And now, he lives far, far away in another country. Not here.” Dawn wanted away from this topic and now. She never really knew exactly where her father was even with snooping through her mother’s things. It got harder to snoop after her mom died; there were no more letters with postmarks on them and no more checks. For a lot of reasons unrelated to getting in trouble for sneaking around. “So, what can I do about my grades?”

 

“Golly. That’s just wrong for a father to do something like that. It doesn’t seem right.” The earlier twinkle had become a fire in Hallie’s eyes. Obvious, much? “It just. . . well, it just makes me angry when a father does that kind of thing to his kids.”

 

“You don’t need to be angry. Happens every day to a lot of kids. I just happen to be one of them.” Dawn immediately felt like she sounded too old. 

 

“It’s okay to be angry. Remember what I said earlier about how you feel about a loss doesn’t just disappear? Same holds here. You lost your father and your mother.”

 

Without warning, Dawn’s eyes blurred with tears, but this her knew better than to give in to that. With a determined set to her jaw, she said, “Nothing I can do about it.”

 

“Don’t you ever wish – ”

 

Dawn refused to even say the word “wish” out loud. “I can’t do anything about it, and I really want to get back to class.” Quadratic equations were messy but way less annoying and treacherous than hanging out with a vengeance demon. She suddenly remembered that Hallie had called herself a ‘justice demon” when she appeared at Buffy’s birthday party.

 

Hallie frowned, something shifting behind her eyes. “You sure? Sometimes it helps to say what you wish in your heart out loud.”

 

“I’m sure I’m sure. No offense, but I can’t do anything about my parents not being here. But I can do something about my grades.” As annoying as that was.

 

“Grades, it is!” Hallie studied Dawn’s face for a moment before turning her attention back to the computer, her hand covering the mouse. 

 

As the justice demon began to speak, Dawn smelled the powerful scent of cinnamon and felt the next skip beginning. Perfect timing. She didn’t think she could stomach going back to math. Still, her stomach ached, a nagging feeling of unease rippling through her belly because Hallie seemed even more resolute. With every ounce of will left within her, Dawn telegraphed to her former self to avoid the use of the word “wish” like it was the plague.


	13. Chapter Seven, Screw-ups Ensue - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm very nervous about this chapter. I love how it turned out but am not sure how it will be received. *runs around anxiously* 
> 
> The mood board is, however, absolutely gorgeous by Badwolfjedi! 
> 
> Special thank you to yellowb for her consultation.

_Buffy_

 

Buffy hung up the phone, tears rising up again for what felt like the hundredth time since she found out Spike had been alive for almost a year and didn’t tell her. 

 

She thought time traveling would lead to only goodness – that she and Dawn would only have to deal with the timeline as it was. But that was rapidly proving to be untrue on both counts. She longed for her version of Dawn, but they’d skipped to different times, and this version of Dawn was at school. 

 

She sensed Spike before he made a sound. He was coming down the stairs without making a sound.

 

“What’s wrong, pet?” Spike called though he couldn’t even see her. 

 

Buffy stayed put by the phone, trying to force the tears to go. “How was your shower?” Her voice totally betrayed her, cracking on the last syllable.

 

Spike rounded the corner, took one look at her face, and strode forward to pull her into his arms. Closing her eyes, Buffy leaned into his touch, inhaling his clean scent from the shower and his clothes, which he’d been washing in the basement the last few weeks. His left hand stroked her hair and then her back, not straying lower the way Spike-of-old would have. 

 

Buffy-of-old would have relished his actions to draw her away from the pain, and she would have spurred them on. Now, genuine words came first, mostly because with Spike’s touch, she was able to find them. She hadn’t been able to even glimpse them a moment ago. “It was the phone call.” A so-so start. Two out of ten on the good communication scale.

 

“Heard you hang up. Was getting out of the shower.”

 

Her small laugh was mirthless. “I forget you hear everything.” 

 

“Not on purpose.” He grunted when she poked his ribs. “Well, not always. It’s not like I can turn it off. It’s kind of like breathing. The hearing’s an instinctual thing for a vampire. The breathing’s instinctual because I was human for a good chunk of years. And of course, breathing is necessary for talking.”

 

“You sometimes breathe when you sleep,” she whispered, wanting to add that he hadn’t lost his humanity, not all the way like he sometimes pretended. 

 

“I do?” He sounded surprised. 

 

She held him closer. “You do. I-I’m glad you do.” 

 

“So I seem more alive.” A whiff of defensiveness was suddenly there in the room.

 

“No. Because I know you’re okay then.” 

 

“Oh,” was all he managed before he gently prodded her along. “Who called?”

 

“My dad’s attorney. I didn’t even know he had an attorney. Should I have an attorney? I can’t afford an attorney no matter how much Max is hypothetically paying me.” Buffy had to actually attend job orientation today – this afternoon, and she just wanted to crawl under the covers and hide. She didn’t want to disappear though, having only become visible again and escaped being pudding yesterday. While Xander and Anya had been reconnecting, Buffy had even managed to have a similar conversation with Willow about being okay with being alive and about Willow being magic-less. Only this time, it was on the curb outside the bowling alley. Who knew Buffy would feel like she’d just bowled a gutter ball so soon afterward? Was the universe giving her a warning ahead of time?

 

“Why can’t he pick up the phone and call you himself? Why the bloody hell does he have to have a lawyer do it?” Spike sounded more than a little indignant on her behalf, but he was still running his fingertips over the long length of her spine in reassuring strokes. 

 

Buffy shivered at his touch. Something akin to desire moved inside her – unseating itself from where she’d firmly wedged it, and she tried to hold it at bay by saying, “He. . . m-my dad wants custody of Dawn.” 

 

Spike drew back. The initial horror on his face was rapidly replaced by anger. “What sodding right does he have to even want custody of Dawn?!”

 

“Well, technically, he and Mom had joint custody of us. He just sort of disappeared before Mom died. With his secretary of all people.”

 

“Stereotypical wanker.”

 

Buffy gave him a half-smile. She liked when he got all riled up. It was nice to have someone on her side. He’d been on her side a lot in that last half of the year in Sunnydale. If she was honest with herself, she’d just wanted to rewind back to that time, but she was stuck further back than she anticipated. And yet. . . things were going well with Spike. “He is. A complete wanker.”

 

Spike smiled, light appearing in his blue eyes. “Best leave the British slang to me, love. Sounds all wrong coming out of your mouth.”

 

God, she just wanted to kiss him. She smiled back at him. “It does, doesn’t it?” He hadn’t said a word when she’d tried the British-isms before, but she liked that this-him did. 

 

He crossed his arms. “So, what’d the wanker’s lawyer say?” 

 

“He said something like how my dad wanted us to work things out without going to court. Something about a joint agreement where he would assume primary custody of Dawn. It would prevent a lengthy court battle and be less expensive, which if we’re being honest here, would be impossible to fight. Financially and emotionally.” Buffy’s heart moved into her throat. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. “It really sounds like I don’t have much of a choice, and I just. . . I just can’t lose Dawn. Not again. Not someone else I love.” 

 

Tears fell down both cheeks in a hot rush. She threw up her hands as a wave of helplessness and hopelessness poured over her, only enhancing the sadness that still lingered from her past self. To be honest, she couldn’t tell where the feelings were coming from. All she knew was that she wanted them to go away, and she really wanted to feel like something was in her control. Between time jumping and skipping and a pile-up of unexpected changes, she was exhausted and confused and why was Spike looking at her like he wanted to kill her father? She almost giggled at the thought of William the Bloody bringing down his wrath on Hank Summers. 

 

Why was she so turned on by that thought? She didn’t really want Spike to kill her father, but god, she just appreciated that Spike probably wanted to. She shivered with a longing for him to kiss her passionately and make love to her on the closest nearby surface. Her eyes flicked momentarily to the dining room table and then back to his azure gaze. 

 

“Spike,” she whispered, desperation to feel his body on hers filling her voice. 

 

His blue eyes darkened, and his mouth was on hers before she could utter another word. His lips were cool and demanding and as half-starved as she felt. His breath was minty without a hint of cigarette smoke; he didn’t taste of ash but life. She met him move for move, focusing on how her body was coming alive and almost singing at her to do more – go further. When he gave her a moment to catch her breath, she found control of her fingers, sliding them up under the bottom of his black t-shirt, feeling the familiar hard abs that had softened somewhat in the last year she’d been with him. She missed him – the him from then, but this was the same vampire – the same man, and she loved him. God, she loved him. 

 

He let her sweep the shirt over his head, chest heaving, as he searched her eyes. As the bit of cloth tumbled in a heap, he asked, “You sure, love?” 

 

She almost said, “I’m sure I love you, you idiot,” but she didn’t because that wasn’t the question he was asking. Instead, she kept her eyes on his and nodded – a shaky but firmly-in-the-yes-camp nod. Pulling off the soft cotton of her pajama top, she let it fall to join his. 

 

A hint of a smile graced his lips – his gaze never wavering, and then, as the hunger won over, the angles of his face sharpened – the depth of his love mingling with the animal need to be with her. She saw his feelings so clearly now, and she momentarily wondered how she’d missed them before. Then, the tidal wave of sensation overcame her as his skin was everywhere on her – hands and arms and torso and thighs pressing her back against the wall behind her with just enough momentum to avoid leaving a scar in the sheetrock. He gripped her hips, and she instinctively drew her legs up around his waist. He buoyed her up, allowing his lips to drink briefly from hers before trailing over her neck and chest, as he pressed his hips firmly against hers. She felt the hard length of him and rubbed herself against him as a soft moan escaped her lips. Her noise made him slow again, and she gripped him harder, willing him to keep going by nudging her nose against his. 

 

“Wait, pet,” he whispered, bringing his fingers up to caress her cheek. “Upstairs? We have plenty of time for,” he lifted a suggestive eyebrow, “this, but for the first. . .” 

 

Ohhh. He wanted her in her bed. How. . . gentlemanly. Was this what he always wanted from her? She decided that yes, sometimes it was. She kissed him tenderly on the mouth. “Upstairs.” She eased out of his embrace, fingers trailing over his forearm until she found his right hand with her left. She pushed her mouth to one side and gave him a playful, suddenly shy smile. 

 

He followed her up the stairs to her bedroom, and when they reached the doorway, he scooped her up without warning so that she shrieked before settling down in his arms. He eased her tenderly onto her unmade bed, sweeping aside the mounded comforter. As she kicked off her pajama bottoms, he stripped off his jeans. He was just as she remembered when she let herself really look at him, and he grinned wolfishly at her once-over. 

 

Then, he climbed atop her, picking up where he left off downstairs, pressing tender kisses over the soft curve of her hip and abdomen. She wove absentminded fingers through his shower-softened curls as he briefly nuzzled her belly button. His touch left a trail of tingles over her inner thighs until she was squirming with need. When his mouth found her pleasure center, she completely lost herself in sensation, feeling lost and home at the same time. Her climax came almost disappointingly swiftly because she wanted to bathe in this moment with him forever. 

 

As the aftershocks faded, she tugged him up so that she could run her hand over his length while kissing his lips with a tenderness she had never shown him in the time they were having sex. She wanted him filling her up and reminding her that she was safe and loved for the moment. He groaned as she guided him inside her, and she shivered at the sound, drawing him closer as he began moving with almost exaggerated slowness in and out, in and out. More gradually than she would have liked, he began picking up speed as if he too didn’t want the moment to end. Her insides quivered as he began pumping harder and faster, the bed somehow not falling apart with the energy between them. He cried out as he came inside her, and she cried out again, too, joining him as another orgasm overcame her. He rolled onto his back, and she clung to him, unwilling to be parted from him just yet. As he continued to pulse inside of her, she collapsed on top of him, breathing hard but barely breaking a sweat. 

 

After several seconds had passed, he kissed the top of her head. “I love you.” The words were so low that she almost didn’t hear them, and this time, they weren’t half-broken or agonized coming out of his mouth. They were clear and true and simply vulnerable. 

 

The tears came forth anew at his words, and she remembered – remembered all the times before when she’d been hit by another round of pain on top of the unbearable weight she was already carrying. She’d used him then – over and over. To feel better. To escape. To chase away the sadness. And most of all, she had used him to avoid thinking about what she’d lost: a peace no one could ever fathom, a peace she couldn’t describe with words – would never be able to describe with words. She’d needed to numb out from her devastating hopelessness about her life – what little there was of it because she was the Slayer. Destined to die young and in the line of a duty she never really wanted. Destined to come back again. That year, she’d found a way to make her fate fit like a pair of ill-fitting shoes that molded her into what they wanted her to be and not the other way around. But her self-loathing had only increased, and now, here she was again as if she’d never crawled out of that hole with Dawn after fighting a handful of deadly animated skeletons. 

 

“Shhh, love. You don’t have to say anything back. I know you’re not ready. And I just want you to know I’m here.” He was caressing her back again, hitting that sensitive spot that only he’d ever found. 

 

She somehow sucked up the tears – walling them away. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She wasn’t afraid of disrupting any timeline this time. She was more afraid of what she’d done. Again. 

 

Sitting up with abruptness, she moved away from him, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand and avoiding his gaze. “What time is it?” She scrambled off the bed, her eyes scanning for clothing and the clock in an overwhelmed, unorganized frenzy that almost slipped her over into a panic. Rummaging in her closet, she snagged a slightly outdated skirt from her closet and a semi-matching top. After pulling them on, she tugged on her socks and boots. The clock told her that she had fifteen minutes to get to work. 

 

Spike said nothing, but she felt his gaze burning through her as he propped up on his elbows. She was afraid to even peek his direction. 

 

She made it to the doorway, and he finally said, “Running away is the new game, is it?” His tone was hard, but she knew what was under it. His tender underbelly was exposed, and she was kicking him while he was down. 

 

Her hand on the doorframe, she paused, taking a hesitating breath. “I can’t miss orientation again.” 

 

“Go. I’ll let myself out once the sun goes down a bit. Be gone before you get back.” He didn’t sound angry or hurt, but she knew the real emotions were buried under the thin layer of resignation. 

 

She glanced over her shoulder and then at her hand – palm down on the wood. “I can’t do this to you.” 

 

“Do what?”

 

She bit her lip. “As much as I love how I feel when we’re together, I-I can’t use my emotions of the moment to do things that aren’t fair to you.” And here she’d done it again when she swore she never would again. Was she doomed to this cycle with Spike? She hadn’t thought so, but god, she’d slipped right back into the old routine when something terrible presented itself. 

 

“Really not complaining,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

 

His words made her eyes fill again. He’d said similar words before, and he deserved more. So much more than what he was willing to put up with. “I know you’re not.” Her eyes moved to his. “But you should. You deserve more.”

 

He was silent a long moment. “We’re at another crossroads.”

 

She wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. “Maybe.”

 

This time, when she walked out the door, she didn’t feel empowered at stopping an abusive cycle. Instead, she felt sick to her stomach and angry with herself, and the only thing that stopped her from going back inside to him was the job orientation she needed to attend – a job she so desperately needed. 

 

The familiar tug of the next skip interrupted her thoughts halfway down the porch steps. As she braced herself for the jarring jump, she dreaded what she’d find on the other end.


	14. Chapter Eight, It's All About Communication - Dawn

 

_Dawn_

 

Blinking away the vestiges of the time jump, Dawn couldn’t believe her eyes. That was it. The universe was definitely punishing her for her spell. Her math book lay open alongside a spiral notebook, and several problems were somehow solved. And she was in the middle of a type of problem that appeared extremely foreign. Great. She could remember a lot of her other self’s experiences, but she apparently had a mental block on math.

 

“Dawnie?” Tara’s voice was soft, and Dawn realized that the blonde witch was sitting with her at the big round table in the Magic Box. She was studying, too. “You okay?”

 

Dawn squinted at the book, her heart dropping a little; it was a book on time travel. What? “Erm, what are you reading?” 

 

Tara held the book out a little and smiled. “Oh, it’s a novel. For class. It’s pretty interesting about traveling through time. I get the appeal in fiction, but it seems like it’d be awfully risky in real life.”

 

“Is it possible in real life?” Should Dawn even be asking this question? Too late for both the time travel and the query. 

 

“I don’t know. Maybe? It’d be tempting, I think, but I wouldn’t want to change anything. Might mess up things I wouldn’t want to even if I changed some things I did.” 

 

“Like if someone you loved died, and you went back to save them?”

 

“It’d be just like what we did to Buffy. Robbing the person of something significant.” Tara sounded resolute, which worried Dawn. Picking up on her distress, Tara asked again, “You sure you’re okay?”

 

Dawn nodded with a little too much exuberance. “Yes!”

 

Tara frowned but then lowered her book to the table and nodded with faux sternness toward Dawn’s math book. “How’s math?” Tara probably thought Dawn was avoiding the homework, which was half-true. . . well, maybe mostly true.

 

“It’s going.” Dawn shrugged. She was going to protest this math-doing thing for the rest of the night if she had to. 

 

“You feeling ready for your test?”

 

And that was a big no. “Yeah.” Dawn flipped closed her notebook and the text, noticing that her arm had a simpler brace. She was healing up, and it was a clue to when it was. Sometime in January? “I’ve done so many problems that my brain hurts. Don’t think any more facts are gonna get up there.” She tapped her head with her index finger and sighed.

 

Tara narrowed her eyes a bit playfully. “You sure? ‘Cause I can – ”

 

The bell on the Magic Box door tinkled. Dawn straightened up in her chair. The shop was officially closed for business, so that could only mean – 

 

Willow had a large grin plastered on her face and addressed Anya, who was behind the counter dusting. The redhead always seemed a little fragile since she stopped using magic, and today, she seemed even shakier – the fake smile barely covering what was underneath. “Lookie who I ran into outside on my way over!” 

 

“Giles!” Dawn scrambled out of her chair and across the shop floor, barely noticing Tara rising behind her, and Anya watching the blonde witch like a hawk. “You’re back!” 

 

Dropping the handle of his roller bag, Giles let out a puff of air as Dawn practically tackled him. He embraced her back, stroking her hair in a fatherly gesture. “Yes, well, not exactly back for good, but I’m here to lend a hand. And it’s very good to see you all. I’ve missed you.”

 

Still. Dawn held him closer, her face mashed into his chest. “Lend a hand with what?”

 

“Not with the shop,” Anya said sternly, the barest hint of anxiety peeking through. “I’ve got everything under control, and you were just in the way before. We’re making a good profit, too. Didn’t you get my emails with the numbers?”

 

Dawn took a step back as Giles chuckled, one hand raised to allay Anya’s fears. “I’m not here to help with the shop. I’m here to help Buffy and Dawn with a little mishap that’s occurred.” He seemed to notice something. “Dawn, what’s happened to your arm?”

 

“Oh, um, I had an accident. No biggie.” It was a big deal, but Dawn was hyperaware of the tension emanating from everyone. 

 

Xander, who had come into the shop last, made his best confused-face, focusing on another part of what Giles had said. “What mishap? Buffy didn’t say anything about a mishap?” Then, he lowered his voice as if sharing a secret. “Does this little mishap have anything to do with Spike?”

 

Giles frowned. “You mean Buffy didn’t tell you?” 

 

“N-no,” Willow said quietly. She was distracted by Tara, who had gathered up her books and grabbed her bag and was hurrying out toward the exit with her head ducked. “She didn’t.” Willow reached for Tara. “W-wait. Tara.”

 

Tara paused by the door. “N-no. I can’t wait. I don’t know how this keeps happening, but you’re using magic.” 

 

Willow’s face crumpled a little – a minor version of what happened that night when Dawn’s arm was broken. “I-I didn’t mean to. Amy came by, and she gifted it to me. She said it was my birthday – ” 

 

Tara hardened, her face unyielding but her eyes soft with pain. “Save it. I don’t want an excuse. G-good night. To all of you.” The bell tinkled merrily as she pushed out into the night, leaving behind a hint of cold winter air. 

 

“Xander,” Anya said, making obvious eyes at Tara’s exit with the feather duster hanging in mid-air. 

 

Xander nodded at Anya. “On it. See you at home.” He glanced at Giles. “Work. Super early tomorrow. Catch up later?”

 

Giles inclined his head. “Certainly. Thank you for the ride.” 

 

Xander’s attention went back to Anya. “She’s not. . . here anymore?” Dawn had no clue who they were talking about and assumed it was Tara.

 

“No.” Anya frowned. “She’s not.” 

 

“I love you,” Xander said with an apology in his voice.

 

Anya’s lips pressed together with a hint of a smile. “Love you. See you at home.” 

 

Pivoting, Xander followed Tara, calling her name and reminding her of his warm and safe car before the door even closed again. 

 

Giles addressed Willow with concern in his blue eyes. “You and Tara are still broken up?” 

 

Tears filled Willow’s eyes. “Y-yeah. More stuff’s happened since you left. With the magic. And I’ve been trying so hard to – ”

 

“Stay on the wagon,” Anya interrupted, and Dawn detected a hint of protectiveness in the ex-demon’s tone that she hadn’t remembered last time around. “She has. Been trying.”

 

Dawn hugged her arm close without thinking. There was more edge in her voice than she intended. “What did Tara mean you’ve been using magic? And what about Amy and birthdays?”

 

Willow echoed Dawn’s body language, only holding on a lot tighter. “Amy came by earlier. To get her rat cage.”

 

“That old thing?” Anya made a face. “Why would she want to keep her torture chamber?” Leave it to Anya to see a cage as a torture device.

 

One of Willow’s shoulders went up. “Yeah. I mean, I sorta get why. She lived there for a long time. Two years is a long time in rat years. It wasn’t a torture chamber to her. It was home. Anyway, I told her she could have it, and then, she zapped me with some magic. Like filled me up with it, and she said it was my birthday present. Only it’s not my birthday, and the magic’s been spilling out everywhere. So – ”

 

“Amy? She’s no longer a rat?” Giles sounded surprised. 

 

“Uh huh,” Dawn piped up. “Willow turned her back into a human. I thought she was nice, but she’s really not.”

 

“She had an issue with magic use even before she turned herself into a rat,” Giles noted. “Her mum was. . . well, let’s just say she practiced magic with far too much impunity.” 

 

“Not unlike me,” Willow said, her head bowed. 

 

“Blah blah blah. Let’s not rehash the obvious. We’ve all been dealing with the mopey-ness for weeks. You’ll get back on the wagon, and you’ll be fine,” Anya said, coming around the counter. Her little speech had started out kinda harsh but ended well. “That’s what we have to do when we screw up. Own it and keep trying. Beating yourself up serves no purpose.”

 

“Maybe stay away from Amy?” Dawn suggested. 

 

“A good idea,” Giles agreed. “And we should talk more about that, but first, where is – ” 

 

Spike came through the back of the shop, emerging from the shadows and trying to appear casual. “Anyone seen Buffy?” He came up short when he saw Giles. “Rupert. Didn’t know you were dropping by for a visit.” 

 

“Spike.” Giles sounded irritated, no doubt thinking about what Xander had hinted at. “What are you doing here?”

 

“He and Buffy go patrolling every night,” Anya supplied, trying to be helpful. Dawn didn’t remember her being so helpful. Anya addressed the vampire, “Buffy’s working tonight. Got called in for a last-minute shift. I think she’s closing.”

 

“Spike’s been helping a lot. In a good way.” A memory slipped into the forefront of Dawn’s mind. Her father was trying to get custody of her. Her stomach sank, and ever since then, Buffy had been more down and withdrawn again. There’d been a shift in her sister since Dawn and her Buffy had been making changes, but this news had thrown her sister off. Consequences. There were consequences to the changes they’d been making, and Dawn knew that more than anything in this whole world, she didn’t want to go live with her father and whichever mistress he had now. Dawn suddenly wanted to talk with Buffy to find out if her sister was her sister. 

 

Willow remained silent and tugged on her sleeves, and Dawn considered that the witch was caught up in her own thoughts and the magic that was coursing through her. 

 

Giles pressed his lips together. “I see. And Buffy has a job. Where is she working?” 

 

“This cute little frozen yogurt shop,” Anya gushed. “They serve the best fro-yo, and they really needed someone like Buffy on staff there, especially at night.” 

 

“Why, pray tell, do they need someone like Buffy?” Giles looked like he was a cross between amused and concerned. 

 

“It’s really good fro-yo,” Dawn offered. “People would kill over it.”

 

“Their clientele’s on the demon side of things,” Spike added. “Max – he’s a good bloke. He wanted to keep his shop safe for the kiddies.”

 

“The demon kids,” Willow said, coming out of her funk for a moment. “Though we’ve all been to try it, and Dawnie’s right. The fro-yo is excellent.”

 

Giles sighed and stripped off his glasses, pulling a handkerchief out of his coat to polish them. “I think I’ll not be telling the Council about that.”

 

“I’d think you’d not tell them a damn thing, being as you left her here by herself and all.” Spike’s voice was edged with anger.

 

“I don’t tell them anything beyond the bare minimum that they need to know to stay off her back. And she’s not by herself. Does no one communicate around here? Buffy knows that I’m in England to prevent the Council from coming here, which they wanted to do when they found out Buffy was back. They wanted to put her through a ‘simple’ round of tests. Make her a bloody experiment. I wasn’t about to let that happen. Not after what she’s been through.” 

 

“I knew why you were gone,” Dawn said. “Sorry, I should have said something to everyone.”

 

“Did the rest of you just think I abandoned you?” Giles re-adjusted his glasses and then crossed his arms. 

 

“Maybe?” Willow went back to seeming lost. Or had she ever seemed not lost in the whole conversation? “But we did all kind of avoid talking with you after that night when Buffy revealed. . . you were so angry with us.” 

 

“I bloody well was allowed,” Giles said sternly. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. In fact, it means quite the opposite.”

 

“I, for one, was okay with you gone,” Anya said with a little too much spirit. “Though I did miss you being here. Just not so much in the store. It’s complicated.”

 

Giles’s face softened at Anya. “I missed you, too. And you know why I’m here now, right? Did Buffy tell any of you?” 

 

“No, she didn’t,” Spike admitted, shoving his hands in his duster pockets, and for the first time, Dawn wondered about her sister’s relationship with the vampire. Something had changed and not for the good if her sister wasn’t telling him things. Dawn was also surprised that Spike even conceded to it. 

 

“I’m here because Buffy’s father is trying to obtain custody of Dawn, and he’s taking them to court,” Giles revealed. “I’m here to help her navigate – ”

 

“How could you bloody help?” Spike asked, a razor-sharp hint of hurt under the surface of the anger. “You’re not a lawyer.”

 

Giles nodded. “Financially. Lawyers are expensive. And I know a lawyer in Los Angeles who may be able to help.” 

 

“Janice’s sister is a lawyer,” Dawn burst out. She’d forgotten about Janice’s sister. “A-and I didn’t know the court thing was actually happening. Oh god.”

 

Giles touched her arm and regarded her with kindness in his eyes. “I’m sorry. Buffy wanted to tell you when there was a clear path forward, and she wasn’t sure what to do.”

 

“So, she called you,” Spike said softly. “Well, at least she bloody well asked someone for help.” With that, he headed toward the front door, brushing Dawn’s arm with brotherly affection as he passed. “I’ll see you soon, lil Bit.”

 

Dawn smiled, trusting that he would be true to his word. She had no idea why he was coming over until she did. “Okay. Need help with my English paper. It’s due Friday.”

 

He offered her a small smile over his shoulder. “The one on Ray Bradbury?”

 

Dawn literally had no idea. “Uh huh! You know me and grammar.”

 

Spike emitted a soft laugh of agreement and breezed out the door. 

 

As soon as Spike was gone, Giles sighed again. “So, I take it that’s the Spike mishap.”

 

Willow straightened a candle on the display near her, touching the object as if she was a little afraid it might melt. “I guess you could call it that.”

 

Dawn lost her temper. “He’s been helping! Me a-and Buffy. Can’t you guys see that?”

 

Giles didn’t react. Instead, he was silent for a long moment. “I do see that. I know that he helps you; I’ve seen how he is with you, Dawn. I just. . . well, I worry. He is still a vampire. A vampire who has had negative intentions toward the group in the past. And I know that he’s done a lot of good this summer, but that doesn’t erase the things he’s done before and not just with us. With others, too.” 

 

“You need to talk with him,” Dawn insisted, feeling very proud of herself for not reacting the way teenage her would have back then. Though, maybe that was of the bad. Too mature. 

 

Willow was looking at her feet, and Anya pushed one hand in the back of her jeans but made clear eye contact with everyone who would make eye contact with her. 

 

“Don’t look at me,” Anya said. “It could really go either way with Spike, I think. I’ve seen it before. . . former baddie types trying to be good for the people they love. It rarely goes very well. That said, I think Spike may be different than they were.”


	15. Chapter Eight, It's All About Communication - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, but I got a little behind in posting so... Thank you from both of us for the delightful and kind comments for the last chapter! I wanted to go ahead and post this one, but we'll be replying to comments soon. I'm working on getting a cold from my son, so I'm all achy and just want to crawl under the covers. lol

 

_Buffy_

 

“So, what are you gonna do about it?” 

 

Buffy blinked and discovered she was standing in front of two very short demons. Each demon had crossed arms and a disgruntled expression. 

 

The dark blue one wore a mini-skirt and wedge sandals. She narrowed her eyes at Buffy and then waved a yellow-clawed hand in front of her face. “Hello?” The demon glared down at her partner-in-crime, who was olive-skinned and had a pair of large horns curling in a spiral around both sides of his face. “You broke her.”

 

“I did not!” The male’s voice was abnormally high.

 

Buffy realized that he was probably a kid. She was probably at work, and by some miracle, she hadn’t been fired! Well, that would be of the good if the time travel skip was more than one day. Otherwise, it’d just be another day of Buffy failing at being a productive member of the workforce. She sneezed, the vestiges of the now familiar cinnamon drifting away to be replaced by the sweet scent of frozen yogurt. She’d been right about being in the yogurt shop! This was so much better than the Doublemeat already. She found her Slayer-voice. “Tell me what the problem is. . . again.”

 

“See?” the female declared, speaking more rapidly as she went. “You made her forget because you looked too long into her eyes like your mom always says not to do to humans.”

 

What? Buffy almost laughed but somehow stopped herself. Instead, she cleared her throat and held up a hand palm out. “Slow down. What do you both need?”

 

The demon kids replied at the same time. 

 

“The pistachio machine is broken. Again. It’s always broken!” 

 

“That guy over there tripped me and my fro-yo spilled, and the little worms are getting everywhere!”

 

Crap. Worms? What was with the worms? ‘Cause, ew! Her mind raced, and a random fact flew into her brain. “Did you squish the worms before they slithered away?” Live demonic worms in fro-yo? Buffy tried not to gag. Only in a demon fro-yo shop. Apparently, the worms would dig into your feet and find their way to your intestines and set up shop. Double gross. Point to Doublemeat on this one.

 

“We tried, but the guy that tripped me thought it was funny and at least a whole bunch got away.” The boy sounded a little desperate and guilty.

 

“First things first then. Let’s go track down the worms, and I’ll deal with the guy.” Buffy regarded the girl. “Broken pistachio machine takes second place. But I’ll get to it.”

 

The girl shrugged, twisting a bit of curly hair around her claw. “I guess that’s fair.”

 

“Good.” Buffy glanced at the boy, who looked nervous. “Don’t be scared. We got this. Point out the guy.”

 

The boy aimed his finger across the shop to the seating area. Buffy decided it really was pretty relaxing for a yogurt shop with leather seats, warm-colored walls, and soft yellow lights. Everything together created a low-key ambiance. Several customers – demon and human – were happily eating cups piled with fro-yo. (Buffy was almost amused that so many people seemed to like cold desserts when it was cold outside. Maybe it was a demon-pain-enjoyment-kink thing?) As her eyes found the troublemaker, a memory came to her. This hulking demon who looked mostly human except for the patches of turquoise scales on his skin and bright golden eyes came into the shop and often, trying to get a rise out of her while also shamelessly flirting with her. She decided that he had a death wish. But she couldn’t do much because Max wouldn’t want her to kill a paying customer. Lovely. 

 

Marching over to his booth with demon kids in tow, Buffy kept things simple as he smirked at her. “Did you trip – ?” she gestured at the boy without looking back at him.

 

“Davey,” the young demon supplied.

 

“Did you trip Davey and spill his yogurt?” 

 

“So what if I did?” the older demon sneered. How he thought this would win her over, Buffy would never know. His attitude kind of reminded her of Spike’s – only much less sexy. This demon guy? He was just a jerk to be a jerk. 

 

Buffy crossed her arms. “Well, for one, you need to pay for Davey’s replacement fro-yo, and for another, you know those worms are dangerous, so you need to hunt down the ones that Davey and his friend didn’t find.” She caught sight of the upended yogurt cup, the melting dessert, and the little squished bodies on the tile. So gross. She was suddenly relieved Max didn’t make her try the special flavors like she’d had to eat the Doublemeat Medley. 

 

The demon turned sideways in his seat, emulating her stance. “Make me.”

 

Buffy hesitated. If she were in Willy’s bar, she’d have the guy over the table by his neck in two seconds flat, but this was a place of peace where young demons and humans came together. And argh. She suddenly realized that she knew and liked some of her customers, who were watching the exchange with rapt attention. 

 

Davey nudged her from behind. “C’mon. Aren’t you the Slayer?”

 

The demon’s eyes narrowed. “She can’t do anything about it if she wants to keep her job.” He stood so that he loomed over her – his face lowered to hers. “And I’m a regular patron.”

 

Still, Max hired Buffy to keep the place in line, and while so far she hadn’t had to get physical with any of the customers aside from prying apart squabbling young demons who liked to punch each other over the toppings bar, this seemed like an instance worthy of physicality. So, she grabbed the surprised demon by the shirt, swung him around, and shoved him toward the door. “Get. Out. Violence and bullying toward guests are not tolerated in this. . . family friendly establishment.” 

 

The demon leered at her and looked like he was going to protest her dismissal of him through retaliation when the door swung open and Spike stepped into the store. Buffy was relieved to see him, feeling her shoulders (and really her entire body) relax at his appearance. 

 

Spike took in the situation with the speed of a predator and said with a slight edge in his tone, “Need some help, pet?”

 

“I got it under control, but I could use some help finding the rest of the worms before they find people’s feet.”

 

“Ah, Max serving the burrowing worm yogurt again?” So, Spike was familiar with it. Why did that not surprise her? 

 

“Yeah. Thanks. I think a few escaped.” She tried not to shudder.

 

“No worries, love. I can smell them.” 

 

“As can I,” a grey-skinned female, who was eating yogurt with her family, stood up. Hailey. Her name was Hailey, and she was studying music because she wanted to be in a big name orchestra someday. “I’ll help.”

 

“Thanks,” Buffy said and turned her attention back to the annoying one. She lifted both eyebrows at the aggravating demon. “Want to go willingly, or do I have to throw you out?”

 

The demon grinned and lunged at her. 

 

Buffy sighed. He really did have a death wish. She easily caught his fist before he could connect with her face and twisted. His wrist broke, and he jerked away, letting out a howl of pain. 

 

“You bitch!” Spittle flew from his mouth. 

 

Buffy shook her head at him. “Language! There are kids here.”

 

“Hey!” a familiar voice called. Buffy turned toward the cash register. Max must have come in from the back. “Out. I’ve told you that I don’t want you here.”

 

The demon’s eyes flicked from Max to Spike to Buffy. Likely realizing he was outnumbered, he cradled his broken arm to his chest and slunk out the door. As he left, Davey started clapping and then all the kids in the place joined in. Buffy’s cheeks reddened, uncertain how to feel about being cheered on by a bunch of demon children and their parents. 

 

As Spike and Hailey went on a search and destroy mission, Buffy addressed Davey. “Go get a fresh cup.” Then, she said to Davey’s friend, “I’ll work on the pistachio machine after I mop up.”

 

The girl demon looked slightly impressed and slightly afraid. “T-thanks!” 

 

Buffy approached the checkout counter next. “Hey,” she said to her boss.

 

“Good job, Buffy. Thank you. He keeps skulking around here, and I keep wanting to kick him out but never had a decent reason until now.” 

 

Buffy smiled at her boss. “You’re welcome. I didn’t know you were coming in.”

 

Max shrugged. “Needed a break from the house. Baby and mom are fast asleep for once, so I thought I’d take a little breather.” Max’s wife had just had a baby – a girl. She had Max’s beautiful skin and long tail, which was absolutely adorable on a baby. “Speaking of breaks. Why don’t you call it a night here and talk with Spike for a bit?” 

 

Buffy’s heart thumped in her chest as she watched Spike gleefully smashing worms with Hailey and Davey. “You sure?” 

 

Max nodded, his long tail swishing behind him in line with his mischievous matchmaking. “Go. I need to put my mind to something besides calculating how many poopy diapers the baby had in the last twelve hours and cleaning the piles of bottles.”

 

“Thanks. And oh, that little girl over there wants some pistachio, but the machine is broken.” 

 

“Got it.”

 

Buffy stomach dropped, and she realized she was nervous in that oh-god-she-forgot-to-study-for-a-test way. Her mind filled with memories since the last skip, and she remembered that the other Buffy hadn’t talked with Spike about how they’d made love. Instead, because she was so mixed up in her own mind and heart, she’d been avoiding the vampire altogether unless they patrolled or he came over to spend time with Dawn. And then, the focus was on slaying or letting her sister have her time with him. She’d been friendly toward Spike, but he’d been giving her space – not pushing the issue as he would have before. Buffy’s heart ached, and she longed to wrap her arms around him to reassure him and to apologize for how she’d handled things. 

 

Spike must have overheard Max’s offer of a break because he glanced at Buffy with a swirl of emotions in his eyes. She thought he looked hurt, and if her memories were accurate, it made sense. She wondered how long he’d been carrying it around. She needed to find a newspaper to figure out the date.

 

She approached him, offering him a cautious half-smile. “Want to go for a walk?”

 

“Yeah. Let’s walk,” Spike replied, matching her smile and pushing his hands in the pockets of his duster.

 

As soon as they exited the shop, Buffy saw that Mr. Flirty was waiting for her with shoulders heaving in anger. Not too bright of him. Before he could even attack, Spike punched the other demon in the face so that there was the satisfying crunch of his nose, and he crumpled to the ground, losing consciousness. 

 

Buffy couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks.”

 

“He was right annoying.” 

 

“Definitely.” Without thinking, Buffy reached over and took Spike’s hand in hers.

 

He regarded her with surprise but didn’t pull away. He didn’t tighten his fingers around hers though, so Buffy clasped his hand tighter, relishing the feel of some part of her wrapped around some part of him. 

 

“So, now you touch me again,” he said softly as they kept moving, strolling down the empty street together. “Are we back at the crossroads together? Thought we might have gotten away from any sort of path altogether.”

 

“I think so. About the crossroads, I mean.” Buffy couldn’t think of anything else to say other than, “I’m sorry.” When he didn’t say anything in response, she continued, “I’m sorry for how I ran off after what happened between us.”

 

“What happened between us?” He was going to make her work for this. . . make her talk about it now that she was open to him. 

 

“You know.” How did she explain that she’d made love to him and the mountain of mixed up feelings of guilt she had about how it happened without hurting him or confusing him? God, she hated this. “I didn’t want it to be like that.”

 

Spike stiffened beside her and slowed down. “Like what? I, for one, thought it was bloody – no, it was beautiful.” He extricated his hand from hers. “And if you can’t see that then. . . I don’t know.”

 

Though the loss of his hand made her heart sink, she said, “You do know.” Last time, Spike had been angry and raw and had said something about how bringing down the building was a revelation. And it had been a revelation. . . a revelation of a very different sort. 

 

“So what if I do? It’s like. . .” He halted in the middle of the sidewalk and threw his hands briefly up. “It’s like you were really there with me, and then, as soon as it was over, you were gone.” 

 

Buffy’s chest tightened as she stopped with him. She’d been gone but not gone. She’d just left the past Buffy so confused because her-self-with-future-knowledge was confused. So past Buffy had continued to make a mess of things but not quite so badly as the first time around, and now, her current self had no idea how to make it right. Buffy hadn’t considered all the layers. How had this turned out to be more complicated than it was before? “I know. A-and that’s not fair to you.” 

 

He rolled his eyes but halfheartedly. “You bloody well already said that.” Of course, he had the conversation memorized.

 

She shivered in the cold breeze. At least, she knew it was still winter. “Yeah.” 

 

“I don’t really care about what’s fair to me. I just want to know what happened. The truth of it.” He ran the back of his fingers over her upper arm. “Cold. Want my coat?”

 

Did she want to wear Spike’s coat? She shook her head. “That’s okay.” It was his, and she didn’t deserve to wear it. Wasn’t sure she wanted to wear it. Her mind struggled to find clarity in her thoughts and feelings. Finding none, she settled on, “Thank you though.”

 

They walked along – parallel to one another. Not touching. Spike was waiting for her. She wished she had a stake to twirl to help dissipate her anxious energy. When they got closer to the cemetery closest to Wicked Cold Creamery, she finally found her voice.

 

“A while ago you said you needed me to be honest.” She took a deep breath and confessed, “So I want you to know that you mean something to me.” You mean more to me than you can know right now. 

 

Spike held his tongue though Buffy could tell he wanted to jump all over what she’d just said. Instead, he managed to stay mum and hold open the gate for her.

 

Crossing the threshold into the realm of the dead, she said, “And because you mean something to me, I want to make sure we do things right.”

 

“This isn’t the Victorian era, love.” The metal gate squealed as it shut behind Spike.

 

“I-I know. By doing things right, I mean me making love to you when I’m not upset or scared about something else in my life that I need respite from.” There! She’d said the making love part. A soft glow of pride warmed her chest. 

 

“Is that all it was to you?” He was focusing on the wrong thing. Of course. “A bit of respite? A moment of cold comfort and then you all but disappear on me?”

 

“N-no!” She almost tripped over a tree root, stumbling a little and catching herself on a statue of an angel – the pads of her fingers scraping over textured stone.

 

Spike caught her elbow but quickly let go when she righted herself like she was a hot potato. “I mean, after you shagged Captain Cardboard to oblivion and back that one time and still stuck it out with him, I’d think that shagging me once would earn me a little loyalty.”

 

Oh, my god! Where was this coming from? “Don’t even bring Riley into this.” What she had with Spike was far more complex and messy and beautiful. He saw all of her and still wanted her the way Riley never had. 

 

“Why the hell not? I mean, what do I have to lose?”

 

Everything. She stood to lose everything if she didn’t find a way to stop the train that was about the crash. “You haven’t lost me. I’m right here, walking by your side.” How could she explain this so he got it? “The point is that I want you to know that when we’re together, I’m really with you. Like in it with you. But I’ve also honestly been a lot mixed up and maybe more than a little messed up.”

 

“That’s all an excuse. Two people can love each other through the hard parts. I know. I’ve done it.” He was talking about Dru and her struggles again. “They lean on each other, remember? Two people either love each other or they don’t. And you sodding well know I love you.” His voice quavered on the last word, and he started to stride ahead – to pull farther away from her.

 

She snagged his arm and stopped him. “Two people, who are falling in love, don’t always do so at the same speed. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He’d indicated he’d got it right after they’d made love, but maybe he hadn’t? 

 

“No, Slayer, I really don’t.” Honestly, he could be so obtuse sometimes!

 

And then, it hit Buffy that maybe he wanted her to spell things out for him because after what happened, they hadn’t talked. Insecurity was bound to rise up; he had a reason for the insecurity, too, and not just because of her. Now, he was picking up on her vagueness and pushing her – the same way he always did. She grabbed his hand again and tugged him close so that she could hold him the way she’d wanted to earlier. He didn’t hesitate, instead sighing and pulling his coat around them both. 

 

“Spike.” She turned her head and pressed a kiss onto his chest. The scent of cigarettes was stronger. He’d been smoking more since what happened between them. “Don’t you get what I’m saying? I’m saying that I have strong feelings for you. Feelings that are growing. It’s all a little confusing with the other stuff I’ve been through, but I’m there. There’s a seed that’s being nourished whenever we spend time together.” She tilted her head up to sneak a peek at him. “Notice I said seed and not a worm like those creepy fro-yo worms?” Some worms ate dead flesh or turned intestines into an all-you-can-eat buffet. Seeds had the potential for life and growth. 

 

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Oh.” 

 

“But I still need time.” She laid her head over his heart again. She hoped that asking for more time would be enough for her past-self to not freak out and to take the time needed to heal. “Please. We made love, but I still need time and maybe to slow things down.” 

 

Spike was quiet for longer than Buffy hoped before he said, “Alright.” 

 

Then, he nudged the boundaries by pushing his hands into the back pockets of her ugly work pants and pressing his hips against hers so that she could feel the evidence of his arousal even now. Unlike before when he’d have slid his hand into hidden places to get her off, he placed one hand under her chin and tilted her head up. In the bright moonlight, she saw the love for her written all over his face, and then, he kissed her with slow, tender heat until she thought she might just give in to her own desire, push him against the tree, and ride him there. 

 

When he drew back so that she could breathe, she was disappointed and not because she was searching for the peace of death again but because she didn’t want to stop touching him. He seemed to read her mind, and instead of pushing away from her in anger, he chuckled at the expression on her face and kissed the tip of her nose, which made her giggle. 

 

He clasped her hand in his now, and they strolled through the conveniently quiet cemetery together. There was a renewed ease between them now, so talking came without the earlier effort.

 

“Went by the Magic Box, looking for you,” Spike threw out, holding her hand up as they walked around opposite sides of a larger headstone.

 

“You did?” A memory came through of getting a phone call from Max. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you about the extra shift.” 

 

He squeezed her hand. “That’s alright, pet. Was looking to patrol. I need to come by tomorrow night to help the Bit with an essay. Promised her.”

 

“Good. She’ll appreciate that.” Buffy studied his face past the shadows from the trees and decided there was something else that was on his mind – something akin to dismay. Had something happened to her sister? She really needed to talk to her sister. “What happened? Is Dawn okay?” 

 

“Don’t you think I’d lead with that if she wasn’t?” 

 

Relief swept over her. “Oh. Yeah. So, what’s up?”

 

“Rupert was there.” 

 

“Giles?” Huh? Buffy searched her memory. Other-Buffy had called and asked him for help with the situation with her dad – a situation in which her dad was taking her and Dawn to court. This was so not of the good. It was the opposite of good. It was very very bad. She’d asked Xander to pick Giles up from the airport at the last minute. Her past self hadn’t really offered her friends any explanation. Buffy hurried to fix her confusion. “He’s here already? I suck at travel times and time zones.” She felt the urge to hurry through patrol so she could go to the Magic Box.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed money for a lawyer? Why didn’t you tell me that you and Dawn had to testify?” Spike kept his tone even, but she could tell his hurt was under the thinly-veiled surface. 

 

“I don’t know.” She really didn’t because she, as she existed, would have told him. She decided that making an excuse for her past self really didn’t help much. “I’m sorry. Giles knows a lawyer and offered to pay. I didn’t even tell anyone else why he’s here.” She inwardly sighed at herself.

 

Spike was quiet for a long moment before saying, “Well, now I know. I’ll walk with you back to the Magic Box. On the way, tell me what’s happening with that wanker of a father of yours.”

 

There was a growl ahead of them as a new vampire’s head poked out of a fresh grave. Buffy reached over to the closest tree and broke off a couple of makeshift stakes, slapping one into Spike’s open palm. “Okay. Let’s just take care of this guy first.”

 

Spike grinned at her – evidence that the connection between them was a little stronger again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little long but hope it was worth it! hearts And as usual, Badwolfjedi created an absolutely beautiful mood board to go with it!
> 
> For fun, there's a little Easter egg for Poor Pistachio here...well, maybe a big one. lol This story, of course, is not in the same universe.


	16. Chapter Nine, Reunited - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments and likes and support so far! Badwolfjedi and I are so grateful! And I just love her mood board here with the messiness that is starting to become evident with the jumps and the changes and the different but similar dynamics. The rain center image is perfect as you'll see!

_Dawn_

Giles was distracted by the financial books, which Anya had apparently conveniently been avoiding sharing with him. They were quietly squabbling, so that left Dawn back at the table where she continued to pretend-study for math. This time, a different witch sat across from her, occupying Tara’s vacated chair, and Dawn couldn’t help but feel lingering sadness about what Tara had said about time travel. 

 

Dawn had definitely cast a dangerous spell, and one that she did not know the consequences to, and if her dad taking her to court was any indication of things to come, she didn’t know what to feel or think. Oddly enough, she felt a little like the current witch at the table, who was pretending to read a science textbook and popping off and on the cap to her highlighter – a small rhythmic beat to her anxiety.

 

Forcing herself to write down some numbers and trying not to think about her sister, Dawn remembered what Spike had said about her having a conversation with Willow. Dawn wasn’t sure this was the right time, but then again, who knew when a right time was anymore? Xander had told her that she saw things – the girl on the sidelines who wasn’t always directly part of the fight. Maybe she could say what she saw out loud now? Dawn then wasn’t able to do that in a way anyone could take in; she was so sad and angry and a bit stuck in tunnel vision. Now, she found her past self’s (and future self’s renewed) anger toward Willow had faded since the accident, and Dawn no longer had the desire to let her friend have it. “I don’t think it’s about being on the wagon or off the wagon.”

 

“Huh?” Willow seemed distracted and dropped her highlighter, the cap ricocheting off the table and into the shadows. “Darn.” She gave Dawn a shaky smile. “What about a wagon?”

 

Words rolled off Dawn’s tongue without her really thinking too hard about them. “What Anya was saying earlier doesn’t make sense. It just seems like either extreme, and you’re miserable.”

 

Willow pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “No magic equals misery, and too much leads to badness like your arm.”

 

Dawn found herself hugging her arm to her midsection. “Not just my arm. Hurting the people you love.” 

 

“You.” Willow’s eyes filled with tears. “Tara. Buffy.” 

 

Dawn held herself back from giving Willow an out; she still needed to own what she’d done. Instead, Dawn said something she’d considered but only after Willow had gone dark and then struggled to find her footing with magic again. “The thing is that before you were using the magic all twisty, it helped us a lot. This summer, I heard all of you planning the patrols with the Buffybot. You may not have included me in the conversations, but I’m not deaf, and the magic was integral to everyone surviving everything. There’s got to be a way to find a happy medium again. . . l-like swing back toward the middle?”

 

“I dunno, Dawnie.” Willow fidgeted with the highlighter, accidentally marking herself because the cap was gone. She didn’t even seem to notice. 

 

Dawn bit her lip. She had had to figure things out herself and pushed the limits with sneaking out and with stealing and hoping someone would notice. Her mind raced to put her thoughts together. The Dawn-of-then was still stealing. . . less than before, but it was still happening. She’d have to own it again at some point. And then, there was this journey she and her Buffy were on – a journey of healing of a different and unexpected sort that she was starting to realize could go off the rails at any moment. Like with her dad. Stupid consequences. “I get it. I think. You have to figure it out, and sometimes, there aren’t shortcuts. Though I wish there were. It’d make life so much easier.” 

 

Willow breathed out as if she had been working out and was exhausted, but there was a slight suggestion of a smile. “Yeah. It would.” 

 

Dawn held up her injured arm, and her next realization was easy. “If it helps, I forgive you. I see how hard you’re trying.”

 

The smile got a fraction bigger, and something lightened in Willow’s eyes. “Thank you.” The little eleven of worry between her eyes appeared. “What am I going to do about Tara? And Buffy?” 

 

Dawn borrowed Spike’s advice to her. “Talk with them. Someone told me that I should talk with you. And keep showing them that you’re trying to figure things out.” She felt the urge to hug Spike and Tara again and wished that she had embraced them both earlier. Dawn glanced back over her shoulder at Anya. “Tell people you love them.”

 

“Actions speak louder than words.” Willow’s words were filled with regret.

 

Her heart aching, Dawn turned back to Willow. “Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt to say them, too.” Dawn found herself scraping back her seat and standing. She gave Willow a pointed look. “Case in point. I love you.” Willow looked startled, and Dawn added, “L-like you’re my other sister.” 

 

Willow’s eyes brimmed again. “I love you, too, Dawnie.”

 

Dawn smiled and then pivoted, rushing across the shop to the counter where Giles and Anya were staring at a large ledger. Giles was running his finger over a column of numbers, and Anya’s arms were crossed as she frowned. Dawn felt a little nudge of irritation. Neither of them even so much as glanced at her – no wonder her past self was stealing things! Then, she shoved her annoyance aside and angled around the cash register, throwing her arms around Anya. 

 

Anya jerked and lashed out. “What?! Dawn! Stop it! Can’t you see Giles and I are engaged in a very important and annoying examination of my bookkeeping? Which is perfect by the way. I always go over the numbers three times. At least.”

 

Giles snorted. “Everyone makes mistakes, Anya. And last I heard, this is still my shop, and I have every right to look over the books.”

 

“But that doesn’t need to be the first thing you do when you come rushing back over the ocean! And when I should be more worried about wedding planning than any mathematical errors you think you might find,” Anya protested, trying to disentangle herself from Dawn’s arms but failing. “Why are you hugging me?”

 

Dawn shrugged and tightened her hold on her friend. “I just realized that I’m glad you’re here with us and that you came back after Buffy’s high school graduation and that you’re with Xander.” Dawn left out the part about the wedding. She honestly had no idea what would happen with Xander and Anya now. 

 

“I must say that you have rather strange timing,” Giles observed. 

“See. Even Giles agrees.” But Anya had relaxed, and she hugged Dawn in return. “But thank you. I’m glad to be here, too.”

 

Dawn took a leap and hoped it wouldn’t make too big of an impact on the timeline. “And I need to talk with you about something.” When Anya made an exasperated noise, Dawn relented and let go, adding, “Not now though.” She couldn’t tell Anya about the stealing yet. This hint of a confession was a big step but also a baby one. 

 

“Okay.” Anya gave her a small nod and then turned to whack Giles on the arm and hard.

 

“Ow!” He glared at her and rubbed his bicep. “What the bloody hell was that for? And you made me lose my place!” He poked at the ledger. Dawn almost giggled at how much like Spike Giles sounded for a moment.

 

Anya lifted her eyebrows at him. “You see? Even Dawn knows about timing.” 

 

The door to the shop breezed open then, the bell tinkling as Buffy entered. Spike was fast on her heels, and they were both smiling and a little winded. Dawn couldn’t help but smile at their exuberance. 

 

“Giles!” Buffy’s cheeks were tinged pink from the cold January air, and her hair was mussed like it usually was after a night of slaying. “You’re here!”

 

Dawn hung back and watched her sister embrace Giles while Spike stayed at the periphery of the group – the way he always seemed to when he was around everyone but Buffy and Dawn. Once the hug was done, Dawn marched up to Buffy, and in a test of this Buffy’s memory, she kicked her in the shin. 

 

“Ow!” Buffy protested exactly the same way as before and sounding a lot like Giles had a few seconds ago. 

 

Still unsure, Dawn crossed her arms and gave her the patented annoyed-little-sister look. “Cow.” 

 

The grins they exchanged could have bathed the universe in sunlight, destroying all vampires for miles around. This was her Buffy! Dawn flung her arms around her sister – never so glad to be reunited with her time-traveling companion.

 

Buffy whispered in her ear, “Calf.” There was never a sweeter verification!

 

Resisting the urge to whoop, Dawn pulled back, suddenly finding it strange to be shorter than she used to be. She was taller than Buffy! Damn it! Dawn managed to sound reasonably hurt. “You didn’t tell me about court. I had to find out from Giles. I’m scared. I never expected this.” The double meanings were heavy in the air between them.

 

“Trust me. I never expected it either. Dad hasn’t exactly been attentive to either of us.” Buffy looked a bit uncomfortable but owned her past self’s decisions. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

 

“Told your big sis the same thing,” Spike casually threw out to Dawn, taking a risk with the group all listening. 

 

No one rose to his bait, probably because Xander would have been the one to throw out a barb, and he was long home.

 

“She didn’t tell any of us,” Anya added. “And now Giles is here. To help. . . as usual.” She was referring to something else, of course.

 

Buffy turned to Giles, and Dawn could tell she was holding back emotion. “Thank you for coming. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here. We’ve missed you and needed you.” She bit her lip. “Should we talk about Slayer things or legal things or both?”

 

Giles suddenly appeared exhausted. “I think, since you were working and out patrolling, we should call it a night.”

 

Dawn found herself feeling relieved by this suggestion, her body suddenly sagging a bit with her own fatigue.

 

Buffy glanced back at Spike. “Oh. It’s because we stopped at the Doublemeat on the way here.”

 

“To refuel?” Dawn made a face at the thought of her sister bringing her another one of their medley meals. She didn’t know if she could stomach another one of those fake meat monstrosities ever again.

 

Buffy laughed and shook her head. “No. We took out a demon lady who’d eaten their manager.”

 

“Heard the commotion from the road when we went by. Vicious demon in a little-old-lady body,” Spike added. 

 

“Luckily, her paralyzing poison didn’t affect Spike. He chopped off the thing’s head.” 

 

“Good for you,” Dawn said, smirking. She remembered the whole mystery about the meat and how Willow had killed the demon lady. Dawn had no idea if that change would make a difference in the timeline. 

 

“Luckily, those demon types tend to be loners,” Anya noted. 

 

“They can’t be eating people left and right in a smaller town,” Spike agreed. “Except for that small place off the coast of Italy.”

 

“The island?” Anya’s eyes sparkled. “You’ve heard of that, too?”

 

“’Course, I have. Dru wanted to visit when she heard about it, but I talked her out of it. We didn’t need to be traipsing through their territory. Wouldn’t have ended well for. . .” Spike trailed off as Giles gave him a meaningful stare. Spike’s eyes shifted to Dawn, who shrugged. They still thought she was all innocent and stuff. 

 

“We should head home. I have class in the morning,” Willow said softly. “So does Dawnie.”

 

A yawn pushed past Dawn’s lips. “I do.” And another stupid day of school with more math and a test of all things. She considered feigning illness, but as Hallie had said, Dawn had already missed too much school. 

 

“And I have to open the shop.” Anya grabbed her coat from under the cash register and tugged it on, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She frowned. “Xander was my ride, and now, no one has a car because of Tara.”

 

“Blame me,” Willow suggested, running her hand over the edge of the counter and looking relieved that nothing happened. 

 

“I’ll walk demon girl home,” Spike offered.

 

Buffy gave Spike a look of alarm and jealousy, and Dawn knew exactly where that was coming from though the vampire had no clue. “You sure?”

 

“You got the rest.” He nodded at her. 

 

“Okay.”

 

“Nibblet,” he acknowledged, trailing Anya, who had already gone outside and obviously assumed that Giles would lock up.

 

Dawn smiled. “You promised. My paper. Tomorrow.”

 

Spike gave her a pointed look. “You think I forgot in the two or three hours since I saw you last?” 

 

“Maybe?”

 

“You gotta learn to trust me, Bit. I’ll be there.” Then, Spike was gone. 

 

Dawn ignored all the vibes of discomfort in the room and chose to focus on the happy glow she felt because things were changing between her and Spike. He was around a lot more this time, and she was cherishing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit shorter but I'm going with what the scene needs...and longer chapters will come!


	17. Chapter Nine, Reunited - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rough and reactionary on both sides, but wait for the end there, okay?

_Buffy_

Buffy set a mug of steaming tea in front of Giles. “Sorry that we only have bags. And peppermint. And a mug with a fluffy kitten and flowers on it.”

 

Giles leaned back in his chair at the dining table and sighed. His blue eyes were weary. “No need to apologize. I’m at the point where you could serve me dishwater heated in the microwave, and I would be grateful.” 

 

Buffy slid into the seat across from him with her own cup warming her hand. “Tired, huh?”

 

“Understatement.” Giles stripped off his glasses, setting them aside. He dunked the tea bag up and down in the water. “I imagine you are as well.”

 

“So tired, but I didn’t travel today.” Only she had. She’d made another time jump, navigated a crisis at work, worked things out with Spike, patrolled, killed the demon lady from the Doublemeat, and reunited with her Dawn all while trying not to break the space-time continuum. Or something like that. Talk about multi-tasking! “I’m glad you’re here. The sofa’s been missing you.” 

 

Dawn and Willow were already tucked away in their own beds. Willow was a mess from some sort of magic jolt from Amy, and Dawn had school. Buffy had practically forced her sister to go to bed. Past Dawn-of-the-eye-rolls-and-whiny-protests would have dug her heels in. Her Dawn had stuck her tongue out at her but had gone, which Buffy supposed was a tad better than before. 

 

“I’ve not been missing it.” Giles took a sip of his tea and winced.

 

Buffy wondered if the sofa had become just a sofa again for Giles. She supposed she should have gotten rid of it, but she had many positive memories on that sofa with her mom. Her death had somehow not overshadowed them, but Giles didn’t have the same positives associated with the furniture.

 

“So, we have one thing accomplished. Well, two. You’re here, and there are two lawyers to call. That’s two more than I had this morning. Though it is a little weird that one of them is Dawn’s friend’s sister.” Buffy emulated Giles’s testing of the tea and decided that he was crazy. It was minty and warm and delicious. Just the thing before bed. 

 

“We’ll interview them both tomorrow and start sorting things out.” 

 

“We can’t let my dad take Dawn.” Buffy had no idea why her father was doing this. At first, she had considered calling him and reaming him out, but Giles had talked her out of it. Screaming at her father would have hurt her case. Now, at least, she was gonna win because she’d been around, and he hadn’t even shown up for her mom’s funeral or called to check on them afterward. Though Buffy had been dead, the judge had no idea that for three months she actually hadn’t been around. Instead, she’d had a robot Buffy in her stead. She never thought she’d be grateful more than once for the robot-her. 

 

“We won’t.” Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose and briefly closed his eyes before putting his glasses back on and gazing at her evenly. “We do, however, need to talk about Spike.”

 

Buffy immediately felt defensive – the memory of Giles conspiring with Robin to kill Spike pushing to the forefront of her mind and a swirl of hurt and anger and indignation muddling things even more. “Willow’s been practicing black magic, and Xander summoned a demon that killed people, and you want to talk about Spike? Spike who’s been helping me – us?” As soon as she spoke the words, she slammed her mouth shut. Oh crap. Crappity crap. Timeline, Buffy, timeline!

 

Giles regarded her evenly. “The fact that you’re so protective of him when not so long ago you were disinviting him from your house tells me that I’m right to be concerned.”

 

Buffy crossed her arms but refrained from sighing at Giles (but also herself). “Why should you be concerned?”

 

“Because you seem to have forgotten what Spike is.” 

 

“You’re the only one who’s concerned.” Buffy knew her argument was weak because Xander had been a big dissenter. “A-and I haven’t forgotten.”

 

Giles leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “That’s simply not true. Xander hinted at it as did Anya. And Dawn. . . Dawn is clearly taken with him.”

 

Now Buffy was in full reaction mode, and she was so tired that she couldn’t stop herself. “Dawn’s always had a crush on him.”

 

“It’s more than that, and you know it. She looks up to him. She has for a long time, and it’s far worse now. Not that we didn’t foster it, too.” He meant over the summer when Buffy was dead.

 

“Tell me how you know that in the five minutes that you’ve been back.”

 

“I see with my own two eyes. I’m not blind. . . not since Willow’s spell.” Any other time, Buffy would have laughed at Giles’s reference to the will-be-done spell but not now.

 

“See. You should be paying attention to Willow.” Not Buffy’s relationship with Spike and not Dawn’s. “Willow’s a mess. She has some messed up relationship with magic that’s gotten worse since I’ve been gone.” 

 

Giles wasn’t thrown by her trying to divert to Willow. “Dawn is relying on Spike to help her with her homework.”

 

Seriously? Buffy kept her arms crossed and sat back rigidly in the dining chair. “That’s what you’re worried about? Him helping her with homework?”

 

“In engaging in such normal everyday activities with him, she’s forgotten that he’s dangerous.” 

 

“He has a chip. He can’t hurt Dawn. And he wouldn’t hurt her because he cares about her.” Buffy knew his love for her sister was unequivocal. 

 

“He can hurt you.” 

 

The question burst out of her mouth before she could stop it. “How do you know?”

 

Giles sighed. Buffy wasn’t sure if his irritation was tied to her or Anya or both of them. “Anya told me all manner of things while we were going over the books.”

 

Stupid chatty Anya. “He can. For some reason.” Buffy needed to remember to get Tara to “look into” the reason for that. “But he hasn’t. And he won’t.”

 

“Maybe not on purpose,” Giles countered, “but he doesn’t have the same moral compass as someone with a soul.” 

 

“People with souls hurt people all the time.” Case in point: Warren. At some point, she had to figure out how to deal with Warren. That was hugely complicated in and of itself. 

 

“And if Spike does find ways to hurt people again? Or hurts you or yours? Will you be able to do what needs to be done?” Giles was talking about Spike like he was an unpredictable pit bull who could bite someone at any moment.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Buffy was rapidly getting tired of rehashing the same arguments.

 

Giles wasn’t backing down. “It was more than evident tonight when you came into the Magic Box. You’ve been relying on him.” 

 

Every time Giles said those words, they went straight to her heart because she did rely on Spike and then he was gone – swallowed up by the Hellmouth and then killed again in that stupid apocalypse instigated by Angel in L.A. Her sadness infiltrated her tone, muddying her anger. “So did you.” 

 

Giles stumbled a bit at her obvious shift in tone. “I admit that I. . . we have. But you more so than anyone else. Could you dust him if it came down to it?”

 

“I-I don’t know.” And suddenly Buffy felt like she was back in high school and trying to decide whether to kill newly soulless Angel. But this wasn’t the same. Right? After everything she and Spike had been through, could she dust him? She hadn’t. He’d hurt her and had gone to fight for his soul. For her. Tears filled her eyes at the memory of him in the church, draping himself over the cross. “He loves us.” 

 

“That may be, but it doesn’t change that he doesn’t have a conscience. And if it comes down to it, and you can’t do what needs doing, I will.” He had with Glory when he’d killed Ben; Giles had told past-Buffy as much in the promised talk the night she’d revealed she’d been in heaven. The intensity in his eyes now told Buffy that he would kill Spike if he felt it was necessary. Giles wasn’t angry but was resolute.

 

“And if you do that, it will end our relationship.” Her heart ached with sharp pain. Why did she have to choose between Giles and Spike? Why was Giles forcing this and now?

 

“So you’re that far gone.” Giles didn’t have to sound so heavy with disappointment or some other similar emotion. 

 

That was it, if Buffy said anything else, she would regret it or relent and tell Giles everything, including the future. She really wanted him to understand; he was the one who always understood when her mother hadn’t been able to, when her father had been absent or let her down. But she couldn’t tell Giles more for many reasons. So, she stood, abandoning her tea. “And this conversation is done. I’m taking a shower and going to bed.” She didn’t offer him the shower first as she normally might. “The sheets are on the sofa.” 

 

Giles didn’t reply. Instead, he simply stared at his tea and looked miserable.

 

At the doorway to the living room, Buffy hesitated, her hand on the doorframe. She glanced back. “I would have thought that the thing you’d choose to tell me about tonight would be about what you’d learned regarding the Slayer line and me being brought back twice. I wouldn’t have thought it would be about whether you approved of the people I’m spending time with.” 

 

Though there was a giant knot of anger and hurt threatening to burst out of her chest, Buffy’s feet were soft on the stairs, not wanting to wake Dawn or Willow. She avoided the creaky steps at the top of the staircase and then practically ran into the bathroom to immerse herself in a shower. Her tears cascaded with as much heat as the liquid pouring from the showerhead, but she didn’t make a sound. She felt guilty for what she’d said to Giles because she knew he was just worried based on prior experiences, and she wished she could explain that the actions of his future-self had driven at least part of her reaction. She was surprised to find that her emotional pain made breathing difficult, and when she began gasping, she took several seconds to focus on the simple act of taking in oxygen. 

 

She brushed her teeth and got ready for bed in record time and discovered that she was still just hanging on by a thread. As she contemplated climbing under the covers, there was a quiet knock on her window that made her almost jump out of her skin. 

 

Pivoting and only half-heartedly ready for another fight, Buffy saw Spike’s familiar face through the glass. She quickly pushed the window open. 

 

Spike crouched on the branch outside – his blue eyes earnest. “Sorry for climbing up to your window. Unlike some people we both know, it’s not exactly my modus operandi, but I was checking to make sure you were tucked up safely in your beds. I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of what went on downstairs and figured I might not be welcomed to come through the back door.” He studied her face, and his expression grew tender at what he saw. “I do know that you might be hurting and wanted to check on you.”

 

Buffy’s face crumpled, and she sniffed as she looked away and her swollen eyes welled again.

 

“Anything I can do, pet?” His voice was low and gentle.

 

She shook her head. She definitely didn’t want to kiss him now, which sounded way weird in her head, but she really didn’t want to make the same mistake again. 

 

“May I come in?” he asked. 

 

When she nodded, he swung his legs silently over the sill, found his footing, and pulled her into his arms. Sagging against him, she held tight to him for the second time that evening. 

 

As he stroked her back, he suggested, “How ‘bout we get you into bed. It’s been a long night.”

 

Her laugh was soft and a little watery. “Understatement.” She pressed her face into his chest. “Okay.” She let Spike guide her to her bed and pull back the covers on her bed – the place they’d made love for the first time. . . ever. Glancing up at him, she made a decision that was a reflection of his earlier query. “Will you just hold me?” This request was easy now. 

 

Spike stared at her a moment. “You sure? Your house isn’t exactly empty of naysayers.” If only he knew how ironic that statement was. But for now, she wasn’t getting kicked out of her own house.

 

She giggled before she could stop herself and then self-corrected. “That’s true.” Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of the small rebellion of inviting him inside. “But I don’t really care right now.”

 

Something glinted in Spike’s eyes. “Alright.” He glanced back at the window. “Let me just. . . ” He slipped away for a moment to slide the window closed. “Get in bed,” he commanded. 

 

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a small sort-of-mocking salute and followed his instructions. Her bed felt wonderful – almost as good as Spike’s bed and definitely just as comfortable as Dawn’s despite her little sister’s insistence that hers was comfier. Buffy sighed as she nestled in on her side and closed her sore, cried-out eyes. 

 

She heard but didn’t see him remove his duster, which he folded over the chair at her dresser and his boots, which made a clunking sound that she secretly hoped Giles heard. The covers lifted, breezing cool air over her back, and Spike was then behind her, the denim of his jeans unpleasantly rough on her calf. 

 

Batting her hand back behind her, she issued an order of her own. “No jeans.” Spike didn’t wear underwear of any sort, but she was banking on them both being too tired to do much of anything sexy. 

 

He nuzzled her hair and disappeared for only a moment as he shucked off his pants, letting them crumple into a lump on the floor. Then, he was back, and she found that perfect spooning position again – the one that was rapidly feeling like home. 

 

She sighed in contentment. “Thank you,” she said with all her gratitude’s layered meanings. 

 

Spike’s arm tightened around her. “It’s what I’m here for, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth on this but I think Giles fast-forwarding here is partly due to him clearly seeing the difference in Buffy's relationship with Spike and the fact that he's been researching her death. I love Giles and he said some things here but he isn't heartless, and I hope that came through. While the Giles-Buffy follow-up convo will not be featured, it will lead to a different conversation regarding Spike later. 
> 
> Also, I kinda wanted to have a reason for Spike to sleep in Buffy's bed. 
> 
> Special thank you to all the readers! And to badwolfjedi for this most beautiful (and achingly painful) mood board.


	18. Chapter Ten, Fitting the Pieces Together - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so behind on responding to comments...but I will get to all of them. RL is still crazy, but I am still writing and am a few chapters ahead. 
> 
> I absolutely love the center image that Badwolfjedi has chosen for this mood board...also that last quote is incorporated because it plays a role in the next part, and I love that Badwolfjedi included it here. Btw, it's a really good short story, too.
> 
> Also, it's so sad that Luke Perry is gone. He was amazing on 90210, Buffy, and now in Riverdale. He was way too young.

_Buffy_

When Buffy woke, the world was still dark; the sun’s rays hadn’t even peeked around the edges of her curtains. Somehow, she always expected him to still be there in the morning if she had allowed it. Now, he was holding her in that loose comfortable way that came after deep sleep, and she never felt so cared for in her life. 

 

He kissed the back of her head. Of course, he woke with her, too. Or maybe he’d been awake. “Morning, pet.”

 

“Mmm. What time is it?” she murmured. She felt. . . surprisingly rested. Feeling rested was rare for her even in her own time, so she luxuriated in it. 

 

He rubbed her belly in a soothing gesture. “Just before dawn.”

 

“You can tell?” Finding his hand, she parted his fingers with hers to clasp his hand. 

 

He sighed with what Buffy could only label as contentment. She realized she’d never imagined that emotion coming from Spike, who always seemed too restless to be content. But maybe that was because she only knew him when things were up in the air for him. 

 

He answered her question, chasing away her other musings. “Sixth sense. Comes with the being-a-vampire gig. Though some vampires are better at it than others.”

 

Buffy briefly thought of that vampire she’d tricked in the Bronze when she’d first arrived in Sunnydale. He’d thought the sun was up when it clearly wasn’t. “That makes sense.” 

 

“And as much as I dislike the idea of leaving you now or of not having the chance to put the Watcher in his place, I have to go.” Spike’s words rang true. He meant it, and he would totally love to flaunt his relationship with Buffy if she let him. Sometimes, like today, she wanted to let him. 

 

“You do?” She tried not to sound disappointed. “I need more sleep.” She drew his arm closer and pushed her hips against his, emitting her own sigh of happiness. He wasn’t looking for anything, but she felt his body still responding to her.

 

Spike groaned and buried his face in her hair. “I do. I don’t want to cause you more trouble.”

 

Buffy resisted the urge to elbow him but let the irony shine through her tone. “That’s not true. The not wanting to cause trouble part.”

 

He snorted softly and nipped at her ear as he started to sit up. “You may be right. But I have something to take care of.”

 

“Something not me?” she teased. 

 

“Careful there, Slayer,” he growled. She felt him harden more behind her, which sent goosebumps over her arms, but again, he didn’t push further, maybe because their relationship was different this time around. 

 

He balanced himself up on his elbow in an echo of the afternoon they slept together in this timeline. She was relieved to have him back in her bed – the distance between them traversed again. 

 

She rolled onto her back to gaze up at him in the dim light from the streetlamp outside. His face was tender and loving, and his curly hair was tousled. He lightly stroked her hip, and she shivered. She didn’t act on her desire or say anything. She simply just drank in his presence as she traced her fingers over his cheek. Losing him twice meant that she had to cherish the moments she had with him. 

 

He observed her watching him in return and then dipped to kiss her gently on the lips, lingering a bit before drawing back. “I’ll be back tonight.”

 

“You will?” She was worried she’d skip ahead before they made it that far. 

 

“Promised Dawn, didn’t I?” 

 

“Oh, yeah.” Buffy didn’t know why she kept forgetting that he was helping Dawn with her homework. Buffy gave herself a pass because she and her past self had a lot on their collective mind. 

 

Spike eased out of her bed as if he too was reluctant to go. But then, he dressed swiftly and quietly and opened her window. He hesitated before climbing out. “Feel like a right ponce, going out your window like a bloody schoolboy. Won’t be doing this next time.” 

 

Buffy sat up and smiled at him, raking her hair off her forehead with one hand and not protesting his insistence that he be accepted. She wanted to tell him that she appreciated this difference from Angel, but she didn’t think Spike would relish the mention. 

 

Spike’s eyes flicked to her bedroom door, which was easing open. Alarm and elation filled Buffy’s chest, but then, she saw their visitor was Dawn, looking half-asleep herself. 

 

Dawn waved at Spike. “Hi, and I’m assuming bye?”

 

Spike nodded at Dawn. “See you tonight, Bit. Take care of your big sis.”

 

Dawn drew an “x” over her heart. “Promise.”

 

“Be careful,” Buffy said softly. She wanted to ask what he could possibly be doing in broad daylight, but this was Spike. He was always resourceful at navigating the sunlight without ending up dusty.

 

He didn’t reply and merely nodded at her. In a matter of seconds, he was gone, and Dawn had taken his place in Buffy’s bed. Leaving the lights off, they both sat up with their hands wrapped around their pajama-covered knees. Buffy considered that she’d traded one loved one for the next.

 

“If I haven’t said it, I’m so glad to be with you again,” Buffy said, nudging her foot against her sister’s. 

 

Dawn rested her chin on her kneecap. “You haven’t, and me, too.”

“What are you doing up so early?”

 

Dawn launched into a speech that Buffy considered she’d been saving up. “I was feeling anxious because who knows when we might jump again, and I wanted to talk with you before we do. And before I have to go to school. God, if I have to do one more math problem. Do you realize that after every jump, I’m either in math class or stuck studying for math? What is the universe trying to tell me?”

 

Buffy tapped her chin in exaggerated speculation. “That you should have studied harder for math? That you’re destined to be a great mathematician? That there are consequences for being a Scrooge about one particular subject?” 

 

Dawn made a face at her. “Haha.” She hardly paused. “You and Spike are. . . together? I mean, I know we all had a snugglefest at Spike’s crypt, which sounds way weird when I say it out loud but really wasn’t. And you have a job at a demon yogurt shop instead of at the Doublemeat, which I gotta say is a huge step up.”

 

“Oh, Dawn. A lot has happened.” Buffy shoulders sagged as her heart ached. “I don’t know where to begin.”

 

“With Spike? What’s happened? All I know was that you guys have been patrolling a lot and kissing. I suspect there was more kissing.” Dawn lifted her eyebrows and looked down her nose as if she knew all.

 

Buffy narrowed her eyes in return. “How do you know? I mean beyond the whole kiss after Giles said he was leaving. You know. . . the one you saw.”

 

“I can tell. You’re different with each other. You light up around him, and he feeds off of it.” Dawn seemed like she was searching through memories – something they probably both had to consciously do. “Though now that I think about it, there was an awkward time in there where that wasn’t the case.”

 

Buffy’s hunched up more and closed her eyes. “It’s ‘cause I screwed up.”

 

“You screwed up or you’re being hard on yourself?” 

 

Buffy opened one eye to see her sister’s sympathetic face. “You got that I do that, huh?” 

 

“Duh.”

 

Buffy figured it was better to say things out loud. “You know the whole thing with Dad?” 

 

Dawn shuddered. “Yeah. He’s trying to get custody of me. What the hell. . .” Buffy gave her a big-sister-ly nose wrinkle and Dawn corrected herself, “heck is that about?”

 

“I honestly have no idea. He showed absolutely no interest at all before. I can’t think of what we could have possibly done. I mean, we passed the visit from Delores with flying colors this time around. I guess that’s a change.”

 

“Hmmm.” 

 

The sisters sat in silence for a while and then Dawn’s eyes grew round.

 

Now, it was Dawn’s turn to slump. “Oh, crap.” 

 

“Oh, crap, what?” Buffy lifted her head.

 

“Anya’s vengeance friend came to see me at school.”

 

“So? She did before when you made that wish about no one leaving that got us all stuck in the house.” On Buffy’s birthday. After she beat up Spike. She suddenly couldn’t get the image of Spike’s bruised face out of her head. More guilt. And more than a bucketful of shame. She tried to refocus on her sister, who was looking thoughtful.

 

“So, it was way earlier this time. Almost like the universe was insisting I make a wish. And I didn’t make a wish. I just flat out refused to make a wish. And my past self didn’t either. Maybe the demon lady was kinda frustrated with me.” 

 

“You’re better adjusted this time? That’s of the good, right?” 

 

Dawn shook her head. “I don’t think so. Past me still feels lonely-ish. And I mean, I didn’t wish, but I did say there was nothing I could do about my parents not being around.”

 

Buffy’s heart thumped in her chest as pieces started falling in place. “You don’t think? No. Halfrek wouldn’t go pay a visit to Dad.” 

 

“She might. She’s a justice demon, and if she can’t get me to make a wish, maybe she intervened another way? I mean, if she’s serious about helping kids and one way doesn’t work, wouldn’t she try anything to help?”

 

“Not sure a demon is out trying to help people.”

 

“Spike. Clem.”

 

“Max,” Buffy added her new boss into the mix. It was kind of a short list but a list nonetheless. “Right. You’re right.”

 

“Do you think Dad made a wish?” Dawn shifted, pulling her leg down. 

 

“Doesn’t seem like it, right? Because things would have just changed, and you might be with Dad right now.”

 

Dawn’s face seemed paler even in the dim light. “Which would be very very bad.” 

 

“We need to talk with Anya about her friend,” Buffy decided. “But how are we going to do that without being super obvious?” She chewed her lower lip. “We’ll ask Xander how the wedding planning is going in front of Anya because I know she invited her bestest bud.”

 

Dawn perked up and waved a hand at Buffy. “Ooo! Ooo! The seating chart!”

 

“Right!”

 

“I can be super curious about it.” Dawn’s expression was pleased.

 

Buffy frowned. “This is so going to be an utter failure.”

 

“All we can do is try, right? Speaking of failures. What did you do that was so wrong with Spike?” 

 

Buffy’s eyes pricked with incoming tears. “I kinda lost it at the idea of losing you. At the idea that what we’d done somehow influenced the universe to nudge Dad to come after custody of you. Spike was there, showering, when I got the call from Dad’s attorney. And I just kinda – ”

 

“Jumped his bones?” Somehow, Dawn seemed to think this was romantic because her schmoopy-romance expression had taken over. 

 

“How’d you know?”

 

Dawn shrugged. “It’s what you told me you did, remember?”

 

“True.” Buffy took a deep breath and breathed out. “And you’re right. I’m really that predictable, huh?”

 

Dawn scooted forward and laid her head on Buffy’s. “You can’t beat yourself up about that. You love him, right?”

 

Buffy nodded, misery settling its cloak around her shoulders as a single tear escaped. “And I’m apparently doomed to repeat this cycle with Spike in which I use him to deal with my emotional problems.”

 

“You’re not doomed. It was different this time.” Though Buffy couldn’t see her sister’s face, there was determination in her tone.

 

“Why? Because I love him?”

 

“Do I have to say ‘duh’ again?”

 

The corner of Buffy’s mouth lifted. “You do. And it was different. Without going into too much detail and warping your brain, it was very very different.”

 

Dawn sighed happily and turned around so she was sitting side-by-side with Buffy. “I bet it was beautiful.”

 

Buffy pushed her sister’s leg so that she swayed. She and Dawn had never talked about boy stuff this much – well, in this much depth. With a sigh, Buffy conceded, “It was. Until I ran off and left him in my bed.”

 

“This bed?” Dawn’s face took on a look of horror.

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’ve changed the sheets since then. Who do you think I am?” She then acknowledged another difference. “And I only left because I was horrified by myself, and I had to go to work. I wasn’t thinking about it the way you’re thinking about it. And it wasn’t fair to Spike.”

 

“But you worked it out now.”

 

“We did. We talked last night.” Buffy wished he was here now, so she could touch him again – make sure that the repairs they’d made were lasting.

 

“And cuddled.” Dawn hesitated and glanced around at the rumpled sheets with a flicker of panic crossing her features. “You did just cuddle, right?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Relaxing, Dawn shifted the subject. “He’s been spending a lot more time with me this time.” 

 

Buffy consulted her memories. “And not just doing homework with you. He’s watching movies and eating dinner with you while I’ve been working.”

 

“Yeah.” Dawn tucked her chin in the valley between her knees.

 

“So, why the frown-y face?” 

 

“I’m starting to think that the more we change – even little things – the more we are having big consequences. And some not so great ones. Like Hallie coming way early. And the Dad thing.” Dawn turned her head sideways to look at Buffy. “Tara and I have been spending more time together, too. And we had this conversation about time travel.” 

 

Alarm shot through Buffy’s chest. “You did?”

 

Dawn nodded. “But it wasn’t what you’re thinking. She was reading this book about time travel for class, and I asked her what she thought about it. . . what she would do if she could go back in time to save someone she loved. It’s not what you might be thinking though. There was a build up to that part.”

 

“Oh. What did she say?” Buffy’s anxiety continued to ratchet up for a different reason – a reason she couldn’t specify yet. 

 

“She said that going back to save someone would be like bringing you back. That it’d be like robbing the person of something significant.” 

 

“Or having unintended consequences.” More tears asserted themselves. God, Buffy sometimes still missed heaven. . . being at peace, but she didn’t want to worry Dawn with that because there was nothing that could be done. But still. “Being immersed in my past self’s memories and feelings and thoughts. It’s getting easier but. . .” 

 

“This is hard,” Dawn repeated from earlier in the journey, her voice cracking just a little.

 

“Yeah. It is. And I’m starting to really believe we can’t save everyone. No matter how much we want to.” Buffy felt sick inside – an aching pain that was stronger this time around. They’d talked about this before, but it had been speculative. They hadn’t known what to expect. She certainly didn’t want to make the same mistakes her friends had made in bringing her back from what they thought was hell. “Don’t even know if we can save Spike. And are we taking something from him by doing what we’re doing?” She acknowledged that part of her that was hoping he might be saved by their time-hopping. Now she was thinking that maybe the pull from the universe might be too much. 

 

“We shouldn’t have done this, right?” Dawn fiddled with the edge of the sheet. “I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

 

Buffy felt compassion fill her heart for her sister. “Now who’s being hard on herself?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We can’t do anything about it now. We can’t break the spell, right?”

 

Dawn guiltily shook her head. “I don’t think so.” 

 

“Then, all we can do is keep moving forward with what’s happened now and the people we love will know that we care about them. That will have to be enough. And we’ll try not to make too many big changes. Little ones. We won’t be able to help those.”

 

“Last night, I had a conversation with Willow about magic. Because Spike suggested I should after what happened with my arm.” Dawn held up her barely bandaged arm. 

 

“How did it go?”

 

“Good. I’m glad I got to say my piece in a way that I feel good about even if it doesn’t change much.” 

 

“Willow has to figure it out. Sometimes, we have to figure things out the hard way.” Buffy paused a moment and then said, “I probably need to talk with Willow, too. But I did have a conversation with Xander. Well, he brought it up with me after he yelled at us in Spike’s crypt. He apologized for his role in hurting me by bringing me back here from heaven. A-and it was really nice for him to recognize that.”

 

“Wow. That’s. . . wow.” Dawn looped her arm around Buffy’s and hugged her. “I’m glad. You deserved an apology.”

 

“I really did.” Buffy still felt stunned by Xander’s confession, and it was validating to have her sister be a bit shocked as well.

 

“This journey is helping us, too, huh? I feel closer with Spike and Tara. And you.” 

 

Buffy smiled. “It is helping in some ways for sure. I definitely feel closer with you and Spike. Though Giles and Xander really don’t approve of me and Spike.”

 

Dawn’s next words were dripping in sarcasm. “Since when is that new?” 

 

A laugh spilled past Buffy’s lips. “Good point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of what they talk about is what I'm wrestling with as a writer. It could just be a fun, easy time travel fix it, but this isn't like that. Spike said magic has consequences when he got upset with Xander outside of Buffy's house, and that's what I'm going with here. Good consequences, not so good consequences but consequences nonetheless.


	19. Chapter Ten, Fitting the Pieces Together - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my fave mood boards by Badwolfjedi...the lighting, the imagery, and the different references that make up the chapter! Hope you enjoy it... 
> 
> Thank you for all the support so far! It means so much to both of us!

_Dawn_

 

Somehow, Dawn had survived another excruciatingly long day at school. Pretty much the only good thing about it was that she had still been carrying around her favorite blue backpack and that the French fries in the cafeteria had been just the right amount of crispy on the outside and hot and soft in the middle.

 

True to his word, Spike had helped Dawn with her paper after school. The paper ironically turned out to be on Ray Bradbury’s short story, “The Sound of Thunder.” It was a tale about the dangers of time travel complete with a Tyrannosaurus Rex hunt, a squashed butterfly, and a hugely altered future in a not-of-the-good way. All in all, the moral of the story was very grim. 

 

Dawn had decided that now the universe was just making fun of her and was being a little too on the nose with its messages. She had tried to tell herself that someone out there had a sense of humor, but that was only to avoid thinking about the coincidence being ominous. 

 

In any case, she was very relieved when the paper was done; she’d chosen to do an analysis of the flaws of the story and hoped her argument about the universe self-correcting would at least earn her a passing grade. Spike had been excellent at playing devil’s advocate and at correcting her sometimes poor grammar and misspellings, and though he got a little impatient with her once or twice, they got it done without too much friction.

 

Giles hadn’t been home when Dawn got home from school, having gone to consult with Tara on something, and Dawn was antsy to find out any news about the lawyer situation and whether he and Buffy had made up. But Buffy was working a shift at the yogurt shop, and now, something more pertinent asserted itself: Dawn’s stomach. 

 

Spike was lounging on the sofa and channel surfing. He didn’t even glance her way. “Hungry, lil Bit?”

 

Her stomach rumbled again to confirm his observation. “Oh, yeah.” 

 

“Pizza?” Dawn said brightly, hoping that Spike would agree. 

 

“’Course. Where’s the money Buffy left?” Spike sat up, flicking off the television and resting his hands on his thighs. 

 

Dawn was brought back to all those nights over the summer when it had just been her and the vampire. Nostalgia washed over her along with a healthy dose of grief. She wasn’t sure who for – Buffy or Spike or both. Dawn swallowed. “In the kitchen, I think.” She set her re-packed backpack next to the coatrack at the front door, so she wouldn’t forget it in the morning. 

 

A bit of silliness pushed forth from the sadness then, and she met Spike’s eyes and giggled before darting off to grab the phone and race to the drawer that had all the takeout menus.

 

Dawn heard Spike growl in frustration, which only made her laugh harder as her hand closed around the cordless phone. He knew exactly what she was up to.

 

Spike caught up to her just as she pulled the menu for her favorite pizza place out of the bottom of the pile of menus. Trying to snatch the phone out of her hand, he said, “No.”

 

Dawn flounced back with the paper menu and crossed her arms, letting a pout grace her features. “No, what?” 

 

He pressed his lips together and then said, “No anchovies and pineapple. Yes to jalapeños and pepperoni.” 

 

“You know you always let me get the anchovies.” 

 

“I helped with your paper; I get to pick the toppings,” he insisted, snagging the corner of the menu and easily pulling it out of her hand without tearing it. Damn, he was good!

 

Dawn glared at him and started dialing the phone number, hoping she remembered it correctly. As she waited for the call to connect, Spike smirked at her, and she glared harder.

 

A teenaged boy answered in an artful monotone, “Tony’s Pizza. How may I help you?” 

 

“I’d like to order a large pizza please,” Dawn said with forced cheerfulness.

 

“What kind of crust?” Not even Dawn’s polite happy-go-lucky inflection made a dent in the guy’s bored tone.

 

Before she could answer, Spike snatched the phone out of her hand and moved away with vampiric speed. No fair! 

 

“I’d like the garlic butter crust.” Dawn still marveled that garlic did nothing to Spike. Vampire lore was way wrong in a lot of ways and not just the old myths. She still had no idea why Buffy had piled her room with garlic over the years. It just made everything stinky. “With regular sauce and cheese. Double pepperoni and jalapeño.” 

 

Dawn marched up to him, crossed her arms, and gave him a patented Summers stare, blowing a strand of her long hair out from in front of her eye. 

 

Spike’s blue eyes twinkled at her passionate but silent protest. “We’ll take a second large pizza. The cheese-filled crust, extra sauce, anchovies, and pineapple. And make sure that the pizzas are carried in separate heated pouches. The anchovy smell leaches over and spoils the other pizza.” 

 

Garlic didn’t get him but the fishes did. A grin spread over Dawn’s face. 

 

Spike finished the order and then hung up the phone as Dawn almost tackled him with her hug. “Yay!” 

 

Spike returned the hug. “You’re welcome, Bit.”

 

Dawn thought of something and drew back. “How are we going to pay for both?” Buffy had left money for one pizza.

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that.” Spike inclined his head toward the living room. “X-files while we wait?” They had multiple VCR tapes of episodes – a show that Spike had introduced to Dawn over the summer that Buffy was gone. Past-Dawn had been taping the new season, and they had a couple of episodes to watch. Future-Dawn had never watched X-files again after Buffy had returned. Somehow, watching now felt right.

 

“Sure!” 

 

Almost an hour later, Dawn was curled up under a blanket near Spike on the sofa. They were on their second episode of the evening, and the pizza still hadn’t arrived. 

 

Mulder was in hiding, Scully was missing him, and some mysterious man was telling her that he could take her to him. It was the first episode in a while that had Dawn eager for more, and the opening sequence was a series of moments between Mulder and Scully and a voiceover from Scully talking to their son about seeking the truth and realizing it’s not found in science but in the heart. 

 

Dawn’s vision blurred with easily wiped away tears because this sentiment coupled with the montage made her sad, and Spike put his hand over her blanket-covered foot. She smiled at him – the simplicity of the moment more important than any TV show to her. 

 

Abruptly and likely in response to some sound that Dawn couldn’t hear, Spike sat up from where he was lounging and turned down the television.

 

Dawn perked up, too, and watched Spike’s face without saying a word. She’d learned to trust his reactions and instincts, and this was a time when she should stay silent. 

 

Spike stood silent as a predator protecting his family, and Dawn held her breath. 

 

The back door banged open, and almost immediately, Spike relaxed. 

 

“Hey!” Buffy called. There was a clatter as her keys hit the kitchen counter and the rattle of a paper bag. 

 

Almost at the same time, the doorbell rang, and Dawn almost jumped out of her skin. 

 

Pushing aside the curtain, Spike peered out the window. “Pizza’s here.”

 

Heart pounding in her chest, Dawn grabbed the pile of cash off the end table. “I got it. You say hi to Buffy.” 

 

Spike gave her a look like he knew what Dawn was suggesting. 

 

Opening the door, Dawn smiled at the delivery girl who was holding two insulated delivery bags. Spike would be pleased. “Hi.”

 

“Two pies?” The girl’s brown eyes were exhausted, and Dawn vaguely wondered what she saw while delivering pizzas in Sunnydale and what delivery workers’ mortality rate was if they worked the night shift.

 

“Yep.” 

 

“That’ll be twenty-one sixty-three.” 

 

Dawn counted out the money along with a tip, accepted the pies, and thanked the girl. Swinging the door closed, Dawn locked it and headed with the food toward the kitchen where she caught Spike stroking Buffy’s cheek and leaning down for a slightly hungry kiss. Dawn hesitated and let them have their moment, realizing that they were all together again like the night they’d baked cookies. Only this time, everyone was closer and happier.

 

Buffy broke away from the moment of tender affection and smiled at Dawn. “Hey, Dawnie. Pizza again, huh?”

 

“Of course!” 

 

Moments later, the three of them were seated around the breakfast bar, eating pizza, talking, and laughing. Spike was sipping the fresh blood that Buffy had brought home, and Buffy was making faces over the anchovies, preferring Spike’s pepperoni and jalapeño. Dawn was purposefully making moaning noises about the deliciousness of her pizza. She not-so-secretly took note of and relished how easy things were between Buffy and Spike. There was something so casual about the way Buffy stole pepperoni off Spike’s pizza and offered him a pepper in return and the way Spike offered her the larger piece when he snagged it first and she made a pouty face at him. 

 

In the interest of keeping things light, Buffy shared a story about work, and Spike and Dawn discussed theories about what would happen next on their X-files episode. Dawn wasn’t sure Mulder would turn up, but Spike was sure that he would be back for Scully and their son because why wouldn’t he come to those who loved him when things were safe? 

 

Buffy ran her hand over Spike’s leg when she saw the emotion on his face about reuniting, and Dawn wondered if Buffy was thinking about how Spike hadn’t come to her, hadn’t tried to find her after coming back in L.A. Spike picked up Buffy’s hand and nibbled her finger, which made her giggle – something Buffy rarely did. Ever. 

 

This was the break her sister desperately needed. The weight of the world was no longer on her shoulders after Sunnydale because she was no longer the only Slayer, but she also had a new burden to carry – a far bigger one with the responsibility for all the new Slayers in the world, who had no idea what they’d become and what evil would be coming for them. Yes, Buffy definitely needed to be back in Sunnydale for this respite even if the consequences still might be terrible. Dawn felt her heart swell for her sister, and she basked in the warmth in the room. She needed this, too.

 

When the pizza was finished and her stomach was round and happy, Dawn asked, “How’d things go with Giles?” 

 

Buffy stood and picked up all the plates with Spike moving around her to put away the leftover pizza. “Well,” she said, “we made up. He apologized for being a big ole jerk last night. I don’t think he’s changed his mind about. . .” Buffy glanced at Spike who was placing slices into two separate plastic containers. 

 

Spike looked up at Buffy, a smirk slipping into place to cover something Dawn couldn’t quite make sense of. “About me being evil incarnate without a soul?”

 

Buffy shrugged and focused on rinsing off the plates at the sink. “Yeah, but I think he realizes that you’re not going anywhere and that there’s nothing he can do about it.” Dawn had her doubts about Buffy’s conclusion but let her continue. “And we spent the day working on the lawyer sitch.”

 

“And?” Dawn asked, sliding off her seat to bring the glasses and Spike’s mug to her sister. Moving helped keep her anxiety from skyrocketing. 

 

Buffy smiled her thanks for Dawn’s help. “We found a lawyer. We interviewed Janice’s sister, but she’s not the right type of lawyer. The one in L.A. that Giles knows. I think she’ll be a big help. She basically said that Dad’s actions so far have shown him to be not the greatest parent.” 

 

“Oh, good.” Dawn cupped her elbows. 

 

Buffy scrubbed out the inside of Spike’s mug first. “She wants to talk to you soon; I think Giles is going to take us this weekend.”

 

“What about the cost?”

 

Spike wasn’t saying anything in the background as he stuffed the cardboard boxes into the garbage, but Dawn knew he was listening. 

 

“Don’t worry about that. Giles has some money to cover the costs, and I’m bringing some money in with my job. We’ll be okay.” Dawn could tell Buffy was fudging the financial confidence. There was always something about the way she set her jaw in that pull-herself-up-by-her-boot-straps manner that gave her away every time.

 

“Okay.” Dawn couldn’t hide her concern. She so sucked at covering up how she felt. 

 

Buffy put a damp but firm hand on Dawn’s upper arm. “Seriously. We got this.” 

 

A car pulled into the driveway then, an engine cut off, and car doors opened and slammed shut. Spike strode over to check on what disrupters were interrupting what felt like family night to Dawn. 

 

He nudged the blinds apart with his thumb and forefinger. “Red and Rupert are here.”

 

Buffy switched off the faucet and dried her hands on the nearby towel. “They’re here to talk about what Giles found out about the spell that brought me back. How it might affect me and the Slayer line.”

 

“Good. Red needs to understand the consequences to her actions. Maybe it’ll finally sink in.” Spike opened the door to invite Willow and Giles inside.

 

Though Dawn agreed with Spike, she felt her stomach sink. There were consequences to this magic, too, and as the back door opened, she felt the familiar jerk of the time jump and inhaled the sharp scent of cinnamon. She glanced over at Buffy who was looking at Dawn with wide green eyes. Dawn only hoped they would end up together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to research different time travel references and theories of time travel and randomly stumbled on this short story. Read the whole thing. It's a great read if you have the time and are interested!
> 
> Link to the Ray Bradbury short story: https://web1.nbed.nb.ca/sites/ASD-S/1820/J%20Johnston/short%20stories/A%20Sound%20of%20Thunder%20with%20questions%20--Ray%20Bradbury.pdf
> 
> I wanted to look up a TV show that Dawn and Spike might watch together, so I googled best TV shows for that year and the first thing that popped up was X-Files. And the first episode I randomly clicked on that aired around that time was this one with the randomly perfect themes of Scully and Mulder being separated, and Scully believing that Mulder is coming back. It's called, "Trust No. 1."
> 
> Link to the X-Files transcript that's referenced: http://www.insidethex.co.uk/transcrp/scrp908.htm


	20. Chapter Eleven, There's Always a Reason - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little long-winded...sorry about that! 
> 
> I love the central image that Badwolfjedi chose here and the simplest of quotes from the chapter, but one of my faves. Huge thank you to her for helping me brainstorm when I need a place to talk it out!

_Dawn_

 

Dawn blinked away the time travel dust from her latest skip. She was washing her hands in the bathroom downstairs at her house – the rushing water cold and wet against her skin and the smell of vanilla mingling with the cinnamon. She shivered. The only thing she was getting from her past self was a momentous sense of dread. She stared at herself in the mirror as she finished rinsing off the soap and drying her hands. Her ears were pricked for some clue about what was happening. 

 

There were many voices outside the small space she found herself in, and she suddenly wondered if she had skipped really far ahead to the days when the potentials had taken over the house. 

 

Her eyes flitted to the plug-in air freshener – the one Mom had picked out and plugged in. The scent was long used up, but it was Mom’s favorite lemony fresh scent by this particular company. She and Buffy hadn’t been able to throw out the used-up freshener until one of the potential Slayers (probably Kennedy) unceremoniously unplugged the leftover plastic and threw it in the tiny trashcan by the toilet. Anger flared anew as Dawn remembered that she had fished it out and tucked it in a drawer in her room – not exactly stealing something that was sort of hers anyway. 

 

So she reached over and tugged it out of the socket. Might as well save it now. What if she forgot later? 

 

She glanced at herself in the mirror again, remembering something else. She’d had highlights that last year in Sunnydale. Her reflection also confirmed she was earlier in time than she thought. 

 

So, when were they? And why was she dreading what was happening outside that door?

 

Taking a deep breath, she palmed the air freshener remnant in one hand and flung the door open with another, ripping off the Band-aid. 

 

Clem was the first person she saw with his kind red eyes and floppy ears. A brightly-colored cone-shaped party hat angled jauntily on top of his head. He beamed at her. “This is a great party, huh?”

 

Anxiety and annoyance mixed in equal measure, but Dawn knew the feelings were tied to her past self. “Great. Yeah.” Oh, Clem. It wasn’t his fault.

 

“Well, not so great for you.” Clem looked to his right and left and leaned forward a little. He was trying to be subtle, but the poor guy just wasn’t. She considered that that might make him a not-so-great poker player, but she didn’t really know because she hadn’t played poker with him last time they were at Buffy’s birthday party. He held his hand to his mouth and spoke to her around one side. “It’s kinda a little bit okay now. She’s a lot calmer since you went to the bathroom. Good thing you gave her a long time.”

 

Just how long had she been in the bathroom? Dawn was confused, but she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Just to double check. You’re talking about. . .” 

 

Clem nodded. “There are lots of ladies here. Anya, of course.”

 

“Of course.” Dawn suddenly remembered. She’d confessed to Anya at Buffy’s birthday party when she tried to give Buffy a stolen pair of earrings – much less expensive than a leather coat but pricey enough to still have a security tag. Her past self was really subtle. Unlike last time, there was no wish holding anyone at their house, and Anya hadn’t gone on a rampage through Dawn’s room. But there had still been a scary red devil-looking monster that had escaped his sword prison when Buffy asked Tara to figure out a way to vanquish him from the weapon. The demon had wounded. . . what was the name of the guy that Xander and Anya had tried to set up with Buffy? Rick? Richard? Roger? Dawn couldn’t remember. He was long gone to the hospital with Willow and Tara, and the demon sword was broken like before. Giles had taken the broken pieces back to the Magic Shop to research the weapon and the demon in order to find a way to dispose of the pieces. Things tended to come back together and bring badness. 

 

“They’re waiting for you in the dining room. Everyone who didn’t already go, that is.”

 

“Thanks.” Dawn felt a knot form in her stomach.

 

Buffy appeared. Her arms weren’t crossed, and she didn’t seem overly pissed, so that was of the good. Her eyes were weary, but there was a trace of something like amusement in them, too. Dawn had no idea if this was her Buffy or not. “You ready?”

 

“Maybe?” Dawn said uncertainly, afraid to throw out the next code word. She didn’t know if she could handle two upsetting things at once. “What should I expect?” Good question.

 

Her sister lifted both eyebrows, and her next words didn’t sound angry. “That was quite a confession you made.” Hmm. This wasn’t her Buffy though, right? 

 

“Yeah.” Dawn worried with her lip and went for the signal. “Fawn?”

 

“Fawn?” Buffy made a face at her.

 

“Like Bambi?” Clem asked, scratching behind one of his ears as if he too was anxious. “You feeling vulnerable there, Dawnster?”

 

“Maybe,” Dawn admitted, sadness hitting her harder than she expected. She really wanted to be with her Buffy again. “I feel like I’m going to face a firing squad.”

 

Buffy hugged her arm. “Hey. This is going to be way easier than going to court. Anya is all bark. Remember that.”

 

After the party last time, Anya had become distracted by her upcoming wedding that failed, and then when she became a vengeance demon again, the Magic Box had been the least of her worries. Dawn hadn’t ever had too many consequences for the stealing, but theft had never been about having things but more about wanting people to notice her. When that got a little better, the stealing had stopped. Consulting her memories, Dawn realized that this time, her past self was a little more ambivalent about the kleptomania. 

 

Anya and Xander were sitting at the dining table when Buffy and Dawn rounded the corner. Spike was hanging back in the corner per usual; this time around, he didn’t have a black eye. Glaring, Anya clambered to her feet and put her hands palm down on the wood. Xander seemed uncomfortable and was almost cowering a little as if he was unable to contain his fiancé’s fury. 

 

“How could you?!” Anya said through clenched teeth. She waved her hand at the pile of trinkets on the table. The pile was a lot smaller than before. “This is a lot of stuff from the Magic Box. That is my place of work! My livelihood! The baby that I nurture through many hours of labor and careful consideration of each decision I make! And you do this?!”

 

Dawn felt herself shut down. What could she say? “I-I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Anya clenched her teeth. “Sorry?! Do you know what vengeance demons do to thieves?! I still have connections you know. You’d better – ”

 

“Anya!” Xander protested, putting a hand on her forearm. “We love Dawn, remember? We don’t want to seek vengeance on her. And we all make mistakes and do things for. . . reasons.”

 

She shook it off angrily. “Don’t even defend her! She stole from me. From Giles.” Anya sifted through the pile with a shaking hand and pulled up a necklace with a shiny gold locket. “Do you even know what this does if it falls in the wrong hands?! You crazy, crazy girl!”

 

Dawn’s mind brought her suddenly back to school right after her mom had died. A girl from her art class had been whispering and passing notes and very obviously making eyes at her. After the bell rang as Dawn had been struggling to shove her books and binder into her backpack, one of the other girls in the class – Ruby – had hissed, “Crazy,” at her and tossed a crude drawing of Dawn in a straightjacket onto her desk. The rest of the group had snickered and left Dawn there as her eyes filled with tears. She’d wanted to move – wanted to run away but couldn’t. 

 

Now, Dawn felt the dampness on her cheeks; she was surprised that she was crying because the stabbing pain in her heart felt so much more acute. She couldn’t lose any more people. She just couldn’t. What was happening now was what her past self had been dreading in the bathroom. 

 

“Let’s not call my sister ‘crazy’!” Buffy protested, stiffening at Dawn’s side. Anya didn’t know that Buffy had been to the mental hospital. “You wanted to confront her, but calling her names is not okay. Ever.” 

 

Dawn felt Buffy’s arm go around her shoulders, and Dawn sagged against her in relief, unable to look at Anya. 

 

“But danger!” Anya brandished the necklace like it was proof that Dawn had lost her marbles. 

 

Spike stepped forward, releasing one arm from where it was across his chest. He put his index finger under the locket, studying the design with intention.

 

Anya whipped her glare in his direction. “What are you doing?” She started to pull the trinket away. 

 

Dawn focused on Spike, watching the concentration on his face.

 

Spike grasped the metal between his thumb and forefinger. “Hold it. Give us a minute to think.” 

 

Miraculously, Anya stilled, but her grip remained firm. 

 

Spike ignored her and continued his inspection of the talisman, which he opened and flipped around. Several seconds passed.

 

Finally, Xander said, “Okay. This is getting ridiculous. Spike, let go of the necklace already.”

 

Spike snorted but dropped the object so that it swung back and forth in a haphazard arc. He gestured at it. “The bauble isn’t dangerous. I recognize the craftsmanship. It looks very close to the necklace you’re referring to Anya, but it’s not exactly the same. Looks like you have a counterfeit.”

 

Relief washed over Dawn. 

 

“What?” In desperation, Anya held up the necklace. “I paid good money to have this as part of the inventory at the shop! How could it be a fake?”

 

“If it was so dangerous, why did you have it out so people could finger it?” Xander asked – all with the innocence. 

 

Anya flashed her glare at her fiancé. “There are a lot of things in the shop that are dangerous in the wrong hands. In case you haven't noticed. We have to have some of those items in the shop. It’s a magic shop.”

 

Xander held up his hands, palms to her. “Okay, okay. Open mouth, insert foot over here.”

 

She crossed her arms. “As usual.” With abruptness, she announced, “We’re going. And Dawnie? We are going to have a discussion about reparations. There are two words I want you to get used to: punitive damages.” She picked through the items Dawn had stolen, pulling out the ones from the Magic Box.

 

Dawn nodded with almost too much enthusiasm. This was at least the same. She remembered the punitive damages piece. “Okay.”

 

With as much abruptness as Anya had declared her departure, she softened. “Xander’s right. This doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Got that?” 

 

A lump forming in her throat, Dawn nodded. That was new, and she’d needed to hear it. “Got it.”

 

“Happy birthday, Buff,” Xander said as Anya headed out. 

 

Buffy’s smile was ironic. “Another interesting one at least. Thank you for the weapons chest. It’s beautiful.”

 

“You’re welcome.” As Xander led Anya out the front door, Dawn heard him say, “With the exception of the threatened vengeance, you handled that very well.”

 

There was a distant and pleased, “Thank you.”

 

Clem, who had been standing awkwardly in the background, gave them a little wave. “Well, I better be on my way. Happy birthday, Buffy!” 

 

“Thanks!” Buffy said with a sideways smile. “For coming and the birthday wishes.”

 

“A-and for the moral support,” Dawn chimed in. 

 

Clem gave a quick bow of his head. “See ya, Spike.”

 

“Later, mate.” 

 

Buffy shut the door behind them and regarded Spike with hope in her eyes. “You’re staying, right?” 

 

“I am.” His blue eyes sparkled at her.

 

Dawn suddenly remembered/realized that Spike had been spending a lot of nights in Buffy’s bedroom after everyone was asleep. She didn’t think there was more to it than sleeping because she hadn’t heard anything that made her want to bury her head under her pillow and because she’d noticed Buffy was seeming so much more rested. No more dark circles for her sister! Dawn was secretly pleased and amused that Giles and Willow had no idea or at least pretended not to. She was guessing it was pretending not to because Spike had been true to his word and hadn’t been hiding his comings and goings in the Summers house.

 

“Good,” Buffy said. Then, she turned to Dawn and pulled her into a hug. “I want to understand this stealing thing. Xander’s right. We all do things for reasons.”

 

“Y-you’re not mad?” Buffy hadn’t been angry before, but for some reason, this still surprised Dawn. 

 

“No. Disappointed that you didn’t tell me and disappointed in me that I didn’t pick up on you hurting. But not mad.” Buffy drew back and tucked a strand of hair behind Dawn’s ear. “I love you. And we obviously need to work on communication, but I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

 

“Oh.” Dawn knew this now, but her past self didn’t. “Unless you die. So you can’t promise that.”

 

Buffy hesitated but didn’t flinch away from the topic. “I can’t promise you that I won’t die, but I can promise you this. I’m not going to be doing anything purposeful to end my life. I don’t want to leave you.”

 

Dawn’s tears fell hot and fast, and she flung her arms around her sister. “Thank you.” She hadn’t heard Buffy say that before, and maybe – just maybe – this promise was another benefit of this time around. 

 

When their embrace ended, Buffy said, “Now. I’m going to take a quick shower while you talk with Spike about stealing.”

 

“What?” Spike straightened from where he was relaxing against the wall. 

 

Dawn’s mouth dropped open a little – half from being stunned and half in amusement. 

 

“Get to it,” Buffy ordered patting Spike on the chest before she started up the stairs. “Has to be done before the rest of everyone else comes home.”

 

Dawn and Spike stared at Buffy and then at one another. 

 

“Huh,” Spike said as the bathroom door closed. “Wonder why she wants us to talk.”

 

Last time, Buffy and Dawn hadn’t really talked about the uncovered stealing right away. They’d slept on it and then talked over breakfast and after school. There’d been a big piece that was just hanging out and spending time together. This time through, the spending-time-together part was covered. Dawn’s only theory about her punting to Spike was, “She trusts you.”

 

“Huh.” Spike’s second similar syllable was different and told Dawn he was kinda pleased and maybe a little surprised by this idea.

 

“Meet you in fifteen. I’m going to change clothes.” Dawn suddenly really wanted to put on her pajamas to get cozy for their talk. 

 

Soon, Dawn and Spike were sitting next to one another on her bed. Spike had changed out of his coat and into what Dawn now recognized as his sleepwear at their house: a black t-shirt and black cotton lounging pants. Very nondescript and not what Dawn pictured a vampire wore to bed. In any case, she was grateful to be out of her party skirt and blouse. Twice now, the light blue, bell-sleeved top and cotton tan skirt were associated with getting caught or confessing her kleptomania. She’d forgotten what she’d been wearing, but she wouldn’t – not anymore. The black and pink kitty cat pajamas that she currently wore had never done her wrong. 

 

“So,” Dawn started awkwardly. “Stealing.”

 

Spike studied his hands, playing with his index finger. “Yeah. Stealing.” 

 

They were silent for several seconds. The only sound was the patter of the shower water hitting tile. Dawn’s mind drew a total blank, and she couldn’t decide if she was tired or just confused about where to start. She toyed with the soft foot of one of her stuffed animals – stuffed animals that were at the bottom of a crater in the present day. A present day that was starting to feel more faded with each jump. 

 

Spike brought her back. “Vampires don’t exactly have the same rules about property as humans do.”

 

“There’s a reason you don’t run businesses like fro-yo shops?” Dawn’s question was a little too bright.

 

Spike snorted, maybe at the thought of a bunch of vampires trying to manage the night-to-nights of the Wicked Cold Creamery. “Right.” He was quiet for a few more seconds. “But I do remember what it’s like to be human.” He turned his blue eyes to meet hers. “And you and your sis remind me more every day.”

 

“We do?” Dawn hadn’t ever heard Spike speak of this, but of course, he’d thought about it.

 

“’Course you do. . . . Hated it at first. Pushed it as far away as possible. Though I loved the world as it is, I didn’t want to really be a part of it unless Dru and I were experiencing something.” That was a funny way to put it.

 

“Like what?” Dawn couldn’t resist asking.

 

“Like. . . ,” Spike looked like he was running items through his head that he shouldn’t say until he landed on, “Mardi Gras.” Dawn made a face at him, which he ignored in favor of saying, “You made me want to be a part of it again. You and your mum and Buffy.”

 

Dawn felt secretly pleased that he was sharing this with her. “Oh.” She leaned over and hugged his arm the way Buffy had hugged hers earlier. When Dawn let go, she frowned. “What does this have to do with stealing?”

 

“You might find this hard to believe, but when I was human, I wasn’t exactly a bad man – ”

 

“Actually, I don’t find that hard to believe,” Dawn interrupted. Spike had never talked about his human days with her, but she had her theories based on her experiences with him. He was too caring even as a soulless vampire to have been a bad man. Plus, he was a little too insistent about being a “bad” guy.

 

Spike rolled his eyes at her. “Now, hold on there. That doesn’t mean I didn’t do my fair share of killing, and you’d do well to remember that.”

 

Dawn remembered the history lesson Buffy had given her years ago about why she should be wary of Spike. He’d killed Slayers – girls like her sister. “I know. But what does this have to do with stealing and me?”

 

Spike nodded. “Right. I attended university on my uncle’s dime before I was turned. We had the social status but not the money after what happened to my father. My mum wanted me to have a good education so off I went. Kept mostly to myself and my rooms at first and buried my nose in my studies. Had to make the most of the opportunity I’d been given.” 

 

This did and didn’t surprise Dawn. Even his dismissive comments about school over the summer hadn’t rung true. She didn’t say anything though because Spike was so intent. 

 

“I didn’t get invited to parties except once when someone was forced to invite me for sodding stupid reasons now. Mind you, it wasn’t a proper invitation. Just a word of mouth one.”

 

“Oh, that’s so sad.” She tried to imagine this and realized that Spike had been that pathetic another time – when he’d been newly chipped. And then, she compared her social situation to his. Oh. No wonder he got her.

 

“Don’t worry about me, Nibblet. I found my footing. But back then? I wasn’t a popular bloke. And I certainly didn’t have money for the proper attire for a proper gathering. I was determined to fit in. To hopefully make the most of my invitation.” 

 

“Things were very proper back then, I take it?” Dawn teased.

 

Spike didn’t rise to the bait; he was being serious, so she listened. “So, I stole what I hoped would be right from one of the blokes in the neighboring set. He was about my size, only his legs were a little shorter.”

 

“Ohhhh.” There was the stealing! Dawn’s heart thudded. “It didn’t go well, did it?”

 

The corner of Spike’s mouth went up. “No. But the point is, stealing usually serves some function, right? Some people steal to survive. Some people steal to buy things they want. To fit in. Because that’s all they know. To fill a hole.” He made eye contact with Dawn on the last one. “To hope someone notices.”

 

Dawn pushed her mouth to one side, and then, she ducked her head to study her hands. “Yeah.”

 

“Vampires, certain demons, and some people steal and don’t care who they hurt. I’m making an educated guess that you don’t fall into that category.” He was giving her an out; Dawn wasn’t sure that was what Buffy intended. “All you can do is make amends; you can’t turn back the clock.”

 

Instead of going where Spike was leading her, Dawn decided to take a different angle. “Not all vampires have solely nefarious motives.” 

 

“Most do, Bit. You’d do well to remember that, too.” Spike sounded so sincere that she knew he was trying to make sure she was careful.

 

“I know,” Dawn said. “I haven’t forgotten my Halloween date.”

 

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Good.” 

 

“My sister’s right, you know,” a voice said from the doorway. 

 

Dawn and Spike glanced up at the same time to see Buffy in her pajamas with her damp hair detangled and hanging around her shoulders. 

 

“About what?” Spike asked.

 

“You and motives.” Her eyes shining with love, Buffy smiled at them and then yawned – a wide yawn that comes with contentment. “Ready to sleep?” 

 

“That’s all the lecture I get?” Dawn asked in surprise. 

 

“That’s all,” Buffy said, coming forward to take Spike by the hand. “Good night, Dawnie.” 

 

“Good night, and happy birthday, Buffy.” Dawn slipped under the covers and closed her eyes as Spike flicked off her light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to all the ladies in the EF Facebook group for your help in figuring out how to word the bits about William and his education. It led to a much bigger discussion than I expected with so many great and wonderful details about universities in England! So thank you!


	21. Chapter Eleven, There's Always a Reason - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you can bear some of Agent Finn in this chapter. He was bound to turn up in the fic...stupid Suvolte/As You Were. It will turn out very differently... This is a Spuffy light chapter but a significant and important one for them despite Spike not appearing in it. 
> 
> Check out the beautiful mood board by the talented Badwolfjedi!!!

_Buffy_

 

Buffy came through the jump and discovered she was ringing up Hailey and her family. Thank goodness for cash registers that told Buffy the exact amount of change because otherwise, she would have been screwed. Swallowing past the burn of cinnamon in the back of her throat, she managed to rake up the coins and bills she needed and hand them to the friendly demon.

 

Smiling and somehow making eye contact despite the jarring feeling from the time jump, Buffy said, “Thank you. Enjoy your yogurt.”

 

“We will. Thanks, Buffy.” Hailey steered her smallest little guy toward a booth before he wandered away on his own. 

 

The door to the shop let out a soft tinkle as it opened. Buffy had convinced Max to install a bell on the handle due to the nature of her being distracted with guests and missing who came in. It was always important to pay attention here. This time, no one who would cause trouble entered; instead, Tara entered the shop a bit anxiously, clutching a book in her arm and holding her purse close. As soon as she saw Buffy, she made a beeline for her friend. 

 

“Hey,” Buffy said, waving. She almost asked what Tara was doing there when Buffy remembered that she was meeting Tara here tonight during her break. Buffy checked her watch and her past self’s memories. It was break time as soon as Max came out from the back. He was doing some budgetary stuff and was a little grumpy. “Help yourself to some yogurt. On me.”

 

Tara smiled and eyed the large spiny demon in the corner with the baby pink wings. “O-okay.”

 

As if on cue, Max emerged from his cocoon of spreadsheets. He blinked his cat eyes as if he was coming out of a fog – a fog of numbers. “Go on, Buffy. Heard the bell. Take your thirty. I need a break, too. Hey, Tara. Feel free to grab some yogurt. We have your favorite today.” 

 

Buffy couldn’t get over how generous Max was; no one at the Doublemeat would have allowed her to give her friends free anything.

 

Tara smiled shyly and waved at Max. “Hi. Mmm. Cookies and cream. Thank you!”

 

Minutes later, Buffy and Tara had taken over the back corner booth – Tara with her cookies and cream with gummy bears and Buffy with her pistachio, almonds, and a shiny red cherry on top. 

 

Tara didn’t even take a bite, and with renewed confidence that hadn’t been evident when she arrived, she regarded Buffy evenly. “I know you’re worried because Spike’s chip doesn’t fire on you anymore, but I’ve done a lot of searching since you and Spike came to me with your concern. I-I researched the spell and the sample of you.” Buffy had given her several hairs from her brush. “I even reviewed the materials Giles shared with me. The ones he stole from the Council.”

 

Buffy tried not to sound too eager; she shouldn’t be eager when she knew the answer already. “And?” 

 

Tara nodded. “A-and though we don’t know all the consequences to what w-we did in bringing you back, what I know all points the same direction. You are still one hundred percent, unequivocally human but with some changes to your cellular makeup that make you seem off to Spike’s chip, which is manmade and not perfect.” 

 

Buffy knew this, but a wave of gratitude washed over her with the repeat revelation. There was something to what Giles had brought back from England – something about her resurrection, but she set it aside for now to focus on what her friend was telling her. “I wish there was a way to check Spike’s chip to know if something is wrong with it.” She wished there was a way to catch the glitch before he had to experience all those horrendous headaches that would almost kill him a year or so from now.

 

“It might sound kinda bad, but you could have him hit someone. Someone else besides you,” Tara suggested softly. 

 

“You’re not volunteering, right?” 

 

Tara rubbed her nose in memory of Spike punching her. She made a face, but the corner of her mouth lifted. “No, thanks.” 

 

“Don’t blame you. Hmm. If Spike’s going to get a headache, maybe I should leave it up to him who to punch?” 

 

Tara laughed. “Maybe. Who do you think he’d choose: Giles or Xander?”

 

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh, too. “You know him pretty well.” 

 

“Well, he’s been around a long time. And he’s helped us a lot.” Tara paused and then added, “He’s helped you a lot.”

 

“He has,” Buffy agreed, clasping her hands together on top of the table and studying her thumbs. The familiar warmth that came with the thought of Spike spread through her chest. 

 

Tara captured Buffy’s hands in hers, and Buffy looked up – startled. “There’s something between the two of you, a-and I want you to know that it’s okay. I see that it’s bringing out something good in you. . . and in him.” 

 

Tears filled Buffy’s eyes. This time, she wasn’t begging Tara to be angry with her. . . to not forgive her. This time, Buffy could take in this generous acceptance from her friend. Meeting Tara’s blue eyes with her own, Buffy blinked back the tears. “Thank you.” 

 

“You’re welcome. Anytime.” Tara started to slide out of the booth, picking up the giant book and palming the cup of yogurt – the dessert showing signs of copious melting. 

 

“Wait,” Buffy said, and Tara stopped. “I-I. . . we hardly see you now. Well, I know Dawn does, but I’m so busy with,” Buffy gestured at her place of work, “here and Slayer stuff. How are things with you and Willow?” A memory of her birthday party came to mind; interestingly, no one had been trapped in the house, but there’d still been a red demon guy on the loose and unexpected blind-date-guy had still gotten stabbed. Willow and Tara had taken him to the hospital together. And this time, Spike hadn’t even seemed remotely jealous – not like before. Then, she’d made him give Dawn the talk about stealing. Huh. Buffy brought her mind back to Willow and Tara with a blink. “You guys seemed kinda chummy at my birthday party.”

 

Tara blushed. “T-things are. . . changing between us.”

 

Buffy decided that Tara couldn’t vague it up more if she tried. “In a good way?”

 

“In a good way. We’re having coffee this week.” Tara set the book down again. “I-I wasn’t sure how much to say. I’m scared to jinx it.”

 

“It’s okay,” Buffy said. “I’m happy for you. Saying it out loud won’t jinx it; I promise.”

 

The tension in Tara’s shoulders eased. “Yeah. She’s doing better with the magic.”

 

Buffy perked up as examples of Willow doing better with magic flowed into her mind. “Oh, um, she didn’t do that location spell to find Warren.” What?! Warren was in jail after Jonathan came to them following the Katrina incident. Jonathan’s guilt was a nice post-Buffy birthday present and a welcome change from before. He’d admitted that he hadn’t liked trying to trick Buffy into believing she’d killed Warren’s ex-girlfriend. . . though he hadn’t felt guilty about trying to zap women’s brains to make them slaves. Buffy forced herself not to sigh. One step at a time. Tara had done the location spell to find Warren with Jonathan’s help. Buffy forced herself to come back to Willow examples. “And she can read her books for class without highlighting the whole page or reading it fifty-two times.”

 

Tara rolled her lips together in a close-lipped smile. “And she didn’t do magic to save Richard.” 

 

“Who?”

 

“The guy Xander and Anya tried to set you up with at your party.” 

 

That was his name! Richard. “Oh, yeah.” Buffy was only slightly embarrassed that she’d forgotten the poor guy’s name. Spike would be pleased. “She didn’t! And she stood up to Amy after the birthday incident.” 

 

“Yeah.” Tara sighed happily, sitting a little taller. “Still not wanting to jinx things.”

 

“I get it more than you know. Baby steps, right?” Part of her wanted to shove Willow and Tara back together because what if they couldn’t save Tara? The two witches could have as much time together as possible before. . . Buffy swallowed past the lump in her throat. She couldn’t suggest more than baby steps. 

 

Tara nodded in understanding. “Baby steps for both of us.” 

 

The door to the fro-yo shop banged open, the bell tingling wildly. All the heads in the shop jerked up to stare at who was making an entrance. 

 

Oh, my god! Riley was here! In the demon-run fro-yo shop. Where she worked. Buffy found her feet – alarm pouring through her body. And he was wearing his black-ops gear. What the hell? She’d forgotten he was coming to town, or maybe she’d just blocked it out of her head. She wondered if he was here for the same reason as before, and then, her heart went to Spike. Spike and the demon eggs. 

 

Riley seemed stunned as he took in the clientele around him and stared at Max who was watching him warily – his tail swishing. 

 

Riley’s eyes locked onto Buffy’s finally, and it was like the world fell away just like last time. A wave of nostalgia with a hint of grief rolled over her heart; she’d loved him but been too caught up in protecting her new sister from a hell-god and worrying about her mom dying. Oh, wait. There was a reason she was mad at him. . . mad at him and hurt that he’d turned to vampires for a high. There’d been heart-stabbed-through hurting. . . though not as much as when she killed Angel. To top it off, Riley had left her like Angel had. Was she destined to always be left behind? Or forgotten? Her heart ached at the thought that Spike had forgotten her; he hadn’t even bothered to look her up after he came back, but that was probably somehow her fault, too. She drove men away. That was like her superpower. Oh, god, she knew was spiraling, but she couldn’t help it. 

 

And then, Riley was there before her. . . tall and with the good arms and kind eyes. He had a new scar across his face, but his eyes were the same ones that had gazed at her when she thought he was T.A. Riley with a crush. “Buffy?” 

 

“Uh huh?” She sounded just like she did then, and she mentally kicked herself. 

 

“It’s me. Riley.” He blinked at her, a little confused.

 

Duh. “I can see that. What are you doing here?” Better with the slight edge. Much better. 

 

“I’m in town, and I need your help.” He sounded so sure of himself, and past Buffy had fallen for it – hook, line, and sinker. She’d so wanted to be rescued from herself, and there he’d been in the Doublemeat, seeming all rescue-y. Until it turned out he was married and that he hadn’t told her all the parts of the mission even on their long-ish car ride when she’d changed clothes in the front seat and he’d pretended to be a gentleman. 

 

Buffy scrounged up her inner strength and stood even though she was still a lot shorter than him. “So, you busted in on my shift at work? I get off at eleven.”

 

“You work here?” The demon customers who had stopped staring were making rumblings and glancing Riley’s way, so he lowered his voice and slouched as he often did. “But you don’t have a uniform.”

 

He expected her to be wearing an ugly, orange hat! Buffy forced herself to shrug indifferently. “Max prefers to keep things casual. A uniform would make me seem intimidating. You know. . . a Slayer is scary to some of the kids.”

 

“Oh.” He frowned, trying to process this information.

 

Buffy caught a glimpse of one of the younger demons cowering behind his mother’s legs. “And I think the way you’re dressed is frightening, too.”

 

“How am I dressed?” He glanced down at his black. . . everything – the same but very different from Spike.

 

Buffy crossed her arms. “Like a commando. People here remember. It wasn’t long ago that the Initiative was in town under Professor Walsh.”

 

Riley’s expression became sad, and Buffy couldn’t tell if he was sad about his loss of innocence when he learned what Walsh did or sad about the impact the Initiative had made on the local demon population, so she was surprised when he said, “You’re right. We should get out of here.” He glanced at Max and then back to Buffy. He inclined his head back toward the demon. “That your boss?”

 

“Yeah. His name is Max,” Buffy said, softening. 

 

Riley nodded at her and then addressed Max, making clear eye contact. “Mind if I borrow your employee for a little hellmouth mission that’ll protect you and all of yours?” It didn’t matter that Riley was lumping all demons in one category; he was still being respectful to demons, which was a shift. Buffy wondered what he’d seen or experienced since leaving Sunnydale. 

 

“Of course. I know Buffy has two jobs.” Max’s tone told Buffy he was absolutely okay with her leaving but only for her and not Riley or his mission. 

 

“Thanks, Max,” Buffy said.

He smiled at her. “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

 

Riley smiled at Tara – a genuine, warm smile. “Tara. It’s nice to see you. You coming with? We could use a witch, too. Got plenty of room in the vehicle.”

 

“That’s new,” Buffy said before she could stop herself. She meant that they’d chased down the Suvolte demon before getting in Riley’s army-mobile before.

 

Riley gave her a funny look.

 

Buffy started babbling. “The vehicle, I mean. I’m assuming you drive something new since you flew out in a helicopter unless you had your car flown out, too. Do they do that with cars?” She gave Tara a look of desperation. 

 

“Sure. I’m in.” Tara joined Buffy, abandoning her fro-yo but taking her book. 

 

Minutes later, they were safely in Riley’s SUV, which was the same one that Buffy remembered from last time he’d come in town, and Riley had explained the Suvolte demon and the breeding and the tracking. And there were the same James Bond device-tracker thingies, and now they were driving toward the demon just like before. 

 

Only, this time, Buffy didn’t need to change clothes, and Tara was in the backseat. 

 

Buffy decided to have the same conversation or something similar. To the best of her memory. “So, what’s new with you?” You got married, right?

 

“A lot’s happened. I have a lot of stories to tell you after this mission is over.” He glanced over at Buffy with that same love in his eyes that she remembered always being there even after he was married. She knew it didn’t mean he didn’t love Sam because his love for her was different. Buffy knew that now. She just knew that he’d never stopped loving her. 

 

Buffy knew he’d always have a place in her heart. . . like Angel, but she loved Spike now, and they’d overcome so much together. . . so much that past Buffy could never have anticipated, but that Buffy couldn’t go there with Riley. It wasn’t the right moment. So, she said, “Did you die?”

 

“No.” Riley’s eyes went back to the road. “Did you?” He hadn’t asked any more the first time, but this time was different. For a lot of reasons.

 

“She died saving her sister. Saving the world,” Tara said, her calm voice carrying from behind them. “And we brought her back. Willow, Xander, Anya, and me. We brought her back into her grave months after she was in heaven. Probably a lot longer for her. If you can imagine that.”

 

Buffy felt the weight of Tara’s simple admission fall heavy on her chest, and Buffy looked out the window at the passing buildings and cars – the lights blurring together as she tried not to cry again.

 

Riley didn’t say anything, but Buffy felt his hand gently cover her fisted fingers and squeeze. “I’m sorry. That must have been. . . I’m sorry.” His apology was many-layered, and Buffy was surprised to discover that like Xander’s apology, it was needed more than she ever knew. 

 

Tears under control, Buffy allowed herself to really look at Riley. “A lot’s changed for me as I’m sure it has for you.” She saw him flinch at what he perceived as rejection; he always did do that with her, so that wasn’t new. “And thank you. I needed to hear it.” Unlike before, she found herself not apologizing for how she’d handled the end of things with Riley when she was terrified she might lose her mom and sister, when she’d discovered Riley was going to the suck houses. And unlike past her, she allowed herself to tell him the truth. “I came after you, you know. You should know that. You thought I didn’t care, but I did. Only you didn’t look back.” Buffy had wanted him to know before, but after Sam came into the picture, Buffy couldn’t let herself say it. Now, there was no part of her that wanted Riley back, so it was easier to admit the truth. It didn’t feel like she could be hurt by saying it. 

 

Riley put both hands back on the steering wheel and was silent for several seconds, focusing on the road and the mission. When Buffy finally decided he was going to let her admission be, he said, “We were at a crossroads. You and I. No. Just me. I was at a crossroads. And I chose the path away from you because I was messed up. You should know it wasn’t because of you.”

 

“I know,” Buffy said quietly, looking steadily into his eyes again. “And now, we’re on different paths.”

 

“You’re seeing someone else,” Riley realized. A tinge of regret was in his tone. “Someone you care a lot about.” 

 

Buffy shrugged a shoulder. Though it wasn’t Riley’s business, she wanted him to know about Spike. “I am. And you’ll never in a million years guess who it is.”

 

“It’s Spike,” Riley said with immediate sureness. There was none of the confusion he’d had standing outside the wedding dress shop with her all those years ago.

 

Buffy shifted in surprise but didn’t look away from him. She almost asked how he knew, but she found herself saying, “He’s the one who’s been there for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoyed...


	22. Chapter Twelve, Rolling with the Changes - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I wrote my EC chapter one week, and the last two weeks have been so busy! My car A/C went out and in order to see if it's still under warranty, I have to go through the insurance because it was replaced after my wreck last year. In any case, they said it would take 1-2 business days but I still haven't heard from them after several days. It's already HOT in Texas and my commute is at least an hour each way. Haha. So I've been exhausted and too tired to write. That and the usual RL stuff. Don't we all have it? Can I have a boring week please? ;o)
> 
> In any case, hoping that I'm back on posting track now! Yay! The banner badwolfjedi made for this chapter is super fun! I had a great time writing Spike, Dawn, and Anya in this one. Hope Anya's voice feels right!

_Dawn_

“What’re you doing down here, Nibblet?”

 

Emitting a short but very loud shriek, Dawn almost jumped out of her skin (which might or might not mean she’d be a green blob underneath) and spun around. 

 

With a small smile on his face, Spike leaned against a set of shelves lined with clear glass bottles with labels – lots and lots and lots of labels. “Not so loud.” He pointed his finger at the ceiling. “I’m here to get in and out. Don’t need the owners of this fine establishment knowing how often I sneak in to nick a few bits and pieces.”

 

Her heart pounding in her chest, Dawn crossed her arms and gave him a disapproving look. “You’re not being a very good role model. Didn’t we just have a talk about stealing last night?”

 

Spike shrugged and tried to look like he didn’t care. “I’m a vampire. Humans have a whole other set of rules that we don’t typically abide by.”

 

Dawn wasn’t going to let him get away with that one. “Not being human is no excuse. Have you thought about the make-up of our group?” 

 

Spike started to scan the merchandise on the shelves next to him, nudging jars gently around to read the labels. “You have a point.”

 

Dawn sighed, gesturing widely with one hand. “And you can’t steal anything off of that whole section you’re standing by.” 

 

Spike glanced at her and then resumed his hunting. “Hmm. Why not?”

 

“Because duh. I’m doing inventory, and I just finished that whole part. After hours.” Well, it had felt like hours. Anya had been serious this go round about the punitive damages piece. That and Dawn needed an excuse to be at the Magic Box to somehow get Anya to talk about who she invited to the wedding, so Dawn could somehow find out if Halfrek was involved in Dawn and Buffy’s dad suddenly wanting custody of her. Phew. Some plan. Numbers were not her friend. Stupid universe.

 

“You’ve been here since after school?” Spike picked up a jar of something and shook it, frowned, and set it down again.

 

“Uh huh.” Dawn had come straight over for her penance. Giles was still doing some research and pretending to stay out of Anya’s hair. And Anya was very cranky that Giles was still there, so she’d very grumpily assigned Dawn to do inventory of. . . everything in the basement, which was a lot. 

 

Spike’s eyebrow went up, and he picked up another item. “Really need this one.” 

 

Dawn squinted but couldn’t make out what it was because on top of being very clogged with inventory, the basement was shadowy. “Why?” 

 

“I’m pinching pennies. If I had pennies. But I don’t. So nicking things is the only option.” 

 

Dawn sighed. “You know that you don’t have to do this with me.”

 

“What do you mean?” He was all with the innocence.

 

“Because you can drop the act. It’s me. And you can do that with Buffy, too.” Dawn picked up the notebook. “And you’ve been helping everyone, so take what you need, and I’ll fudge the numbers. What is it?”

 

Looking a tad uncomfortable, Spike showed Dawn the label, and she noted down how much he took. She was glad she was using a pencil. Then, she handed him a baggy from the open box stowed on the shelf behind her.

 

After tucking his prize inside the bag, Spike returned the jar with the remaining product to its home and regarded Dawn. “You know that when it comes to you and your sister, I’d do anything to help you out.”

 

Dawn smiled. “I know.”

 

“Stealing, maiming, killing. That’s all in there.” He was serious.

 

“I know, but we don’t need any stealing, maiming, or killing.”

 

“Not right now.” Spike’s eyes were dark. “Take that Warren bloke. He shows up around Buffy or you again? There will be hell to pay.”

 

Dawn checked her memories. Warren had tried to pull the same trick on Buffy again with the time-bend-y demons, but her sister had been stronger this time around and hadn’t been fooled or desperate. She and Spike had figured it out together, but Warren had still gotten away with killing Katrina. The trio of nerds was unfindable like last time. “You can’t hurt a human, a-and we wouldn’t want you to. Not anymore.”

 

Spike made a soft noise, indicating she had no clue what he was capable of. “Yeah. I can, and I will. If needed. Resulting migraine be damned.” He held up the bag of spices and gave her a nod. “See you later this evening, lil Bit. Good luck with inventory.” 

 

“You’re not gonna stay and help me?” There was a little whine in there. She couldn’t help it. This inventory thing was making her grumpy. “Two counters are better than one!” 

 

“Not my wheelhouse.” Spike headed toward the entrance to the sewers. 

 

“Thanks for nothing,” Dawn groused after he disappeared. She checked her watch. Maybe she was due for a break? 

 

The basement walls felt suddenly confining, so she marked her place and headed up to the store level. As soon as her head crossed the threshold, she felt lighter. Giles was gone, and Anya was ringing up a customer. There’d been more people in the shop in the late afternoon, but the evening was generally slower, which Dawn considered was probably why so many magic store owners were killed in evening hours in Sunnydale. 

 

Dawn’s eyes lit on Anya’s wedding planning station on the back table. The seating chart was in full view. Perfect. Not that Dawn had any idea of how she could bring up the topic of a justice demon who might or might not be meddling with her custody. So, she opted to do the best she could. Faux stealth was sure to get Anya’s attention.

 

Dawn’s hand had barely grazed the edge of Anya’s giant display when the ex-demon’s voice carried shrilly across the shop. “What are you doing?”

 

Dawn was proudly better than Buffy at acting. “I’m just curious how the wedding planning is going. It’s in like what? Two weeks?”

 

Anya somehow crossed the store with unnatural speed, and she jerked the seating chart away from Dawn’s touch. Anya gave Dawn a stern look. “You, little missy, are supposed to be counting things. Lots of things.” She blinked. “There’s no way you could possibly be done counting the merchandise, so don’t even try to pull a fast one on me. I know you’re the sneaky sort, and you won’t get a treat from me until you finish.” 

 

Dawn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Anya didn’t get that she was growing up in this timeline either. Instead, Dawn reminded herself that reacting wouldn’t help anything, especially solving any sort of mystery. “I don’t need a treat. Just a break so I can go back to counting without messing up.” 

 

Anya blinked; Dawn knew she had her. “Alright.” Anya stuck a finger out at Dawn. “Fifteen minutes.”

 

“Thirty. Most people in the service industry get thirty.” Dawn had no idea if that was true, but it sounded good. 

 

Anya sighed. “Twenty-five.”

 

“Deal.” Dawn plopped down in the chair next to the wedding planning station. “So, where am I sitting? Where is everyone else?”

 

Anya glanced at the door to the shop and then back to Dawn. “Hold on. I can take a break, too.” Anya charged with purpose to the Magic Box entrance, locked the door, and flipped the sign to closed before hurrying back. She regarded Dawn with eager eyes. “You really want to know?”

 

Dawn couldn’t help but grin and feel a little sad at Anya’s excitement. No one had been listening to her about wedding planning except Xander. “I do.”

 

Anya beamed and then poked at a round circle with little square shapes arranged around it. Dawn could see her name on one of the squares. “This is where you, Buffy, Tara, Willow, and Giles will sit. Xander wants me to put his family here, but I didn’t want to do that to you guys, so his parents and relatives are all at one table over here.” Anya indicated a circle toward the bottom of the page. “It’s closest to the bathroom in case his dad or one of his other relatives has a bout of ‘anxiety-induced nausea.’” She made exaggerated quotation marks with her fingers.

 

“Anxiety-induced nausea?” Dawn couldn’t remember Xander ever talking about anxiety in his family.

 

“Code for they drank too much and need to vomit,” Anya explained conspiratorially. 

 

“Oh.” Gross. “Where will you and Xander be?”

 

“This tiny table in the front just for us. Where we can take a break from meet and greets and rest our feet after dancing.” Anya sounded thrilled about this, and Dawn’s heart broke a little for her. 

 

“Your own little oasis!” 

 

“Right!”

 

“Er, where’s Spike going to sit?” Dawn couldn’t help herself. In the previous timeline, he’d shown up with a date to the wedding-that-wasn’t. She’d caught a glimpse of Buffy and Spike chatting, but he’d turned around and left with the other woman. This time, he’d be with Buffy, right? 

 

Anya tapped her bottom lip. “I wasn’t sure where to put him given that Xander made me promise to not put him at Buffy’s table.”

 

What?! “But that’s none of his business!”

 

“What do you mean?” There was irritation in her tone. “It’s our wedding. Mine and Xander’s. We have all the say about who is there and where they sit.” 

 

“I mean, what’s going on between Buffy and Spike is none of his business, and you put Tara and Willow at the same table, and they’re broken up!” Dawn’s quick retort was more than she meant to say, and she bit hard on the inside of her cheek. 

 

Anya looked thoughtful. “I’d say Willow and Tara are well on the way to making up after Buffy’s birthday party fiasco yesterday.”

 

Dawn sighed. “What if you sat him next to me? He can be my chaperone.”

 

Anya studied her chart with fierce intensity, looking as if she was mentally moving people around. “That could work out best because right now, he doesn’t have a spot, and I can’t put him at the table with D’Hoffryn. He doesn’t particularly like vampires.” She gave Dawn a quick glance. “He takes great delight in wreaking vengeance on them.”

 

“Great.” 

 

Anya peeled off squares and rearranged them, pulling Spike’s square from the side of unplaced names. She pushed his name between Dawn and Giles and across from Buffy. “Xander shouldn’t mind. There will even be a big floral arrangement between them. They won’t even see each other.”

 

Dawn stopped herself from sarcastically saying that a mere bunch of flowers could hardly stand between her sister and the vampire. “Yay. Spike should be included, you know.”

 

“Thanks, Bit,” a familiar voice came from behind them. 

 

This time, Dawn didn’t jump, but Anya did. “Talk about sneaking up on people!” she protested.

 

Spike approached them and blinked at Anya. “It’s what I do.”

 

Dawn almost burst out with how he’d come back, but she stopped herself just in time by biting her tongue. “Looking for Buffy? She’s working.”

 

“I know. Thought I’d wait for her here to see if she wants to sneak in a quick patrol when she gets off. Not here to count if that’s what you’re wondering.” Anya gave him a confused look, but Dawn got the message and couldn’t help but grin. Spike nodded at the seating chart, swiftly changing the subject. “Gonna put a plant between me and Buffy, eh?”

 

“I know. It’s silly.” Anya studied the arrangement and then glanced back up at him, pressing her lips together and giving him an it’s-not-my-choice smile. “It’s just that it’s half Xander’s day, too.”

 

“Right. It is.” Spike didn’t even have a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and he pulled out a chair, slouching down in it. 

 

Dawn’s heart picked up speed as she realized that Anya had given her an opening just seconds ago. “Soooo. D’Hoffryn is like your old boss? Like Giles is the boss of you now?”

 

Anya crinkled her nose as she scoffed. “What? No. D’Hoffryn is. . . D’Hoffryn is evil personified and a tyrannical boss who is ruthless and cruel, but he also took me in when I had nowhere to be, and he loved me like his own.” Anya’s face transformed as she realized what she was saying. “Oh. Kind of like Giles without the ruthless, tyrannical, evil part.”

 

“So why are you inviting him again? D’Hoffryn, not Giles.” Dawn was genuinely confused. 

 

Anya shrugged a shoulder and gazed down at the seating chart. “A thousand years with someone. It’d be kind of weird if I didn’t invite him and my other co-workers. He’s kinda like. . .” She cocked her head as if unsure how to put it.

 

“Family,” Spike offered, picking up a book from the table, reading the title, and plunking it back down with a thump. “Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t live without ‘em. Even if they come back around after decades. You know, whenever they lose their soul. And then bloody well steal your girl out from under your nose.”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes at his mention of Angel but addressed Anya with her words. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Dawn couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be over a thousand years old. Well, she knew she was, but her only sentient memories were for this lifetime. A drop in the bucket of time. “Y-you don’t think any of them would be able to use me for. . . for. . .” Dawn couldn’t make herself say it.

 

“Do I think any of my old friends and colleagues would want to harness your power for themselves? Yes.” Anya was blunt as usual. 

 

“Great.” Dawn hadn’t thought of that last time around. “Do any of them know – ?”

 

“Absolutely not.” Anya’s certainty was immediately reassuring. “And they will never know that you are the key to a hellgod’s home dimension. And the hellgod’s dead and the monks who created you are gone, so all the people that know what you really are. . . us.” Anya put her arm around Dawn’s shoulders and hugged her. “And we’d never tell.”

 

“And if it gets out, they’ll have to go through me,” Spike reminded her, only Anya had no clue he was repeating himself. He began flipping through another book – a big one with dust on the top of the pages. 

 

“Thank you.” Dawn vaguely wondered if any of Anya’s wedding guests would be able to tell that Dawn could harness her own power now and if they’d somehow know that the timeline was off. Wasn’t that what vengeance demons could do? Mess with all manner of laws of physics and timelines? Shoving those fears aside, she spotted Halfrek listed on a square chair at D’Hoffryn’s table. Dawn was suddenly glad that Anya wasn’t a vampire and couldn’t hear the blood thundering through Dawn’s veins. “Who’s Halfrek?”

 

Anya sat back in her chair. “Halfrek’s a good friend of mine. We go way back. Vengeance demons often work alone, but there was something about Hallie. We balanced each other out. Her specialty was justice for kids who’d been hurt, and mine was for scorned women. Together we tormented many men and women. Demon, human, and otherwise. I guess you could say she was my best friend. Why?”

 

Dawn swallowed in what she hoped was a convincing way. “Justice for kids?”

 

“And puppies. And kittens,” Spike mumbled to himself, focusing on the tiny print on the page.

 

Anya turned sideways in her chair and set down the seating chart. “Dawn. What are you saying?”

 

Dawn’s nervousness was all about the way Anya was looking at her now with the intensity of a predator ferreting out its prey. Anya would have been a scary vengeance demon. “The new counselor at school is named Hallie. S-she pulled me out of class and asked me a whole bunch of questions about my family.” 

 

“What did she look like?” 

 

Dawn tightly held her elbows. “Dark curly hair, kind smile. I don’t remember very well.” 

 

“Did she have an old-looking pendant around her neck? Try to get you to make wishes?” Anya gripped the edge of the table harder with each query.

 

“Um, I think so on the pendant. And definitely on the wishes. She seemed really frustrated that she couldn’t get me to share more about my thoughts and feelings, but I thought it was just because she was trying to be a therapist.” Now was the time for honesty without being too honest. God, it was a fine line to walk.

 

“Did you wish for anything? Did you say a sentence with the word ‘wish’ in it?” Anya shouted the last question.

 

“Hey!” Spike perked up, marking his place in the book with his forefinger. “Lay off the girl.”

Dawn scraped the chair back. “Anya, you’re scaring me.” 

 

The ex-demon purposefully relaxed – the moderation would have fooled anyone that she didn’t know well. “Do you remember if you made a wish?”

 

“W-why are you asking?”

 

“Hallie’s been in town recently. She’s been hanging around until the wedding. I think D’Hoffryn sent her sniffing around to spy on me. He can’t stand that I have a life now. Hallie’s been telling me that Xander’s not good enough for me. That I deserve better.” Anya smiled, and Dawn could tell Anya was trying hard to convince herself. “I told her she’s wrong about him.” 

 

Oh, boy. “Of course, he loves you!”

 

Spike narrowed his eyes at her as if trying to make sense of what Anya was saying. He was no doubt seeing the same thing Dawn was, but he waited. 

 

Anya’s beaming expression was the only commentary she gave on Dawn’s reassurance. “In any case, she said she had some business to attend to. I had no idea it would be you. What did you say about your family?”

 

Now Dawn was questioning herself as she rewound the events in her mind. There were so many memories – her own and the other Dawn’s. It was all very confusing when emotions got heightened. Like now. “I am pretty sure I didn’t make a wish – ”

 

“Pretty sure?” Anya’s voice took on a tinge of hysteria again. 

 

“I’m sure.” Anya’s eyes grew round, and Dawn added, “I’m sure I did not make a wish of any sort. Buffy taught me better. Hallie knew Mom died and that Buffy was taking care of me. But she didn’t know that Dad has been AWOL.” 

 

“And now your dad is taking you and Buffy to court!” Anya slammed her palm on the table so hard that all the wedding planning supplies made a little jump. She leaped to her feet. “Halfrek!” she bellowed. 

 

With the same puff of smoke and dramatic music, Halfrek appeared out of thin air before them with a dancer’s flounce of the arms and flick of the wrists. She wore her vengeance demon face as she intoned, “You rang?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dawnie with more math type stuff! And we're getting closer on the Halfrek thing! Stay tuned. Next up, Buffy goes to see Spike to find out if he has the demon eggs. Thank you everyone who is still reading! Sorry again for the delay!


	23. Chapter Twelve, Rolling with the Changes - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to being four chapters ahead, so here's another for you! Thank you so much from the bottom of our hearts for the kind words and likes that you've been leaving our little project! *big hugs* 
> 
> Love all the images Badwolfjedi chose to illustrate this chapter... the hands!

_Buffy_

 

Buffy raised her hand to knock on Spike’s crypt door. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d kicked her way into his residence. It felt like a hundred years ago. She was officially old. The tension didn’t help.

 

The door swung open, and Spike’s soft expression made something inside her heart open. She longed to be in his arms. “Hey, love. Thought you had a late shift at Max’s.”

 

“I do. Well, I did.” Every muscle in her body felt on edge. How was she going to explain this to him so that he didn’t suspect that she somehow knew the future? Did he even have the demon eggs this time around? She had no idea, but she had to be sure. At least, if he did have them this time, she’d save a lot of time and hopefully blow the things up before they hatched. 

 

Spike, of course, picked up on the change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?” 

 

“You seem to ask me that an awful lot lately,” Buffy joked half-heartedly. 

 

He reached up to stroke her cheek and then as if he too couldn’t resist, he embraced her – his arms strong around her. “It’s only because you’ve been through an awful lot,” he whispered into her hair. “Otherwise, it’d be all, ‘Toughen up, Slayer,’ and ‘Pull yourself up by your bloody bootstraps!’” 

 

She couldn’t help but giggle because he sounded a little like Giles, which she’d never tell him. “You would never say that.” That was as close as she’d get.

 

He chuckled. “You’re probably right.” She felt him stiffen – just slightly. “So, Soldier Boy’s back in town.” Spike smelled Riley. The current version of her current beau wasn’t defensive or worried or ready to gloat. That was definitely new. Was Spike secure with her? She hoped so.

 

“He is. And he has a wife.” Sam had been exactly the same as before – perfect. Buffy found herself wanting to reassure Spike. “And before you get prickly, he knows we’re together.”

 

Now, the gloat came out along with the patented smirk. “He does, does he?”

 

“He does. He guessed it without me even saying anything.”

 

“He knew there was something there before.” Buffy was about to ask what he meant, but Spike’s frown stopped her. “But you would have said something.” There was a tinge of worry. 

 

She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I would have. I promise.”

 

When he drew back, he arched an eyebrow at her – the scarred one. “So what are you doing here? Some sort of baddie in town that he wants you to help kill?” 

 

She resisted the temptation to trace the moveable eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

 

“Don’t exactly have to be Holmes to know why he’d come back though I very well believe he never should have left. Though I’m not complaining because the alternative. . .” He took a deep breath – his eyes flicking briefly away. “And you have some weaponry on you that you don’t normally carry.” He patted her jacket pocket where the grenade was stuffed. 

 

Buffy had been doing a lot of thinking on her way to Spike’s crypt. What had he said last time this happened? She’d been so embarrassed that she’d defended him to Riley when Spike had gone behind her back. In her heart of hearts, she knew that there was more to the story than she’d let herself acknowledge or hear at the time. “You’d do anything to help Dawn and me. Am I right?”

 

Something in his eyes flashed – a hint that he’d kill for them if necessary. “You’re absolutely right. You need me to kill some big bad?”

 

“N-nope. I handled all that on my own. With Tara’s help.” Buffy and Tara had managed to kill the Suvolte by tag-teaming quite nicely. Tara had been good at distracting the demon away from a fallen Riley. Sam had shown up right on time like last time. Buffy had figured she should kill the demon again because timeline and all. Then, she caught the tail-end of a memory flitting past. “Dawn told me that you’re pinching pennies.” And there was something with Anya’s friend and her dad, but that was for later.

 

“I did. Days ago. What of it? I don’t exactly have much.” He glanced over his shoulder at his somehow comfy crypt. She sent him a silent apology if she had to destroy it again.

 

“Why are you pinching pennies? I’ve never heard of you doing that before.” Her words came out harsher than she intended. Damn it. It was only because she felt like she was on a time crunch. No pun intended.

 

“I just am. I’ve saved up before. Contrary to what you might think, I wasn’t always destitute over the past century.” He was edging into sarcasm and toeing the boundary of defensiveness territory. 

 

Buffy bit her lip and took a sharp turn away from this discussion. She had to know if Spike had the eggs and fast, and this conversation was going nowhere but toward badness. “Can I start over?”

 

Spike blinked at her in surprise. “Of course, love.”

 

“May I come in?” Buffy wasn’t sure if the whole of the Sunnydale cemetery should hear the next part. 

 

“My crypt is yours.” Spike stepped back and invited her inside with a sweep of his arm. She decided that he really didn’t seem nervous if he did have the eggs, and he totally would be if he knew what they were. 

 

She couldn’t help but kiss his cheek as she entered and then stood to one side as he closed the door. She donned her serious face. “I’ll cut to the chase.” 

 

His face pensive, Spike waited, crossing his arms to match hers. 

 

“The demon we killed is called a Suvolte demon. You heard of them?”

 

“Not a whit.” His eyes were earnest.

 

“It cuts across continents, killing everything in its path. Kind of like a demon bulldozer. Well, until we killed her tonight.”

 

“That must have been a sight,” Spike said with a half-smile. 

 

Buffy couldn’t help but offer a nervous smile in return. “It was. Only Riley didn’t tell me the whole story about the demon. We weren’t supposed to kill her because she was supposed to sniff its way to the eggs, so they could be destroyed. The demon lays lots of eggs everywhere she goes, creating more killer baby demons who are going to grow up to be just like Mommy and destroy the countryside.”

 

“Where’s this thing’s mate?”

 

That was a good point. No one had mentioned a daddy demon last time. The Suvolte demon was single-mom-ing it like Buffy’s mom. “No idea.”

 

“Ohhhkay. So, let me guess. You need me to sniff out the demon eggs, so you can destroy them.” Spike still wasn’t balking. Either he didn’t know what he had, or he didn’t have the eggs. 

 

“Sorta.”

 

“Say more.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath and launched into what she remembered. Her anxiety was making her unsure exactly which parts were what Riley and Sam had told her before and what they’d told her now. “Riley and his wife said that there’s a guy in town named the Doctor that’s looking to get ahold of the eggs to harness the power of these killing machines. You don’t think it’s Doc? I thought he was dead. I mean, at the tower. Surely, he didn’t survive the fall.” 

 

Spike flinched just a little so that Buffy was unsure if he was responding to the memory of not being able to stop Doc from cutting Dawn and opening up the doorway to Glory’s home dimension. Or if he was responding that way because he had the eggs. Either way, it was something she couldn’t ignore.

 

“What?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound demanding.

 

“What’s what?” He shifted so that he took a step back from her and glanced away. Oh, she hated that reaction; it meant he still didn’t trust that she had his back. 

 

“You had a reaction to what I just said. Which part were you reacting to?” She kept her tone gentle. 

 

“What are you accusing me of?” 

 

“Not accusing. Asking.” She really was trying to ask, damn it.

 

Spike, of course, took the direction she least expected because she was so focused on the now. “Doc’s dead. Made sure of it myself.”

 

“He survived the fall from the tower?” Buffy had no idea the answer to this because she’d been. . . well, she’d been kinda dead. 

 

“He did. He hit his head on the way down. Skull was bashed in, but I wasn’t taking chances. Bloody well thought he was dead before. Beheaded him and burned his body after I was done. . .” Spike shook his head and closed his eyes.

 

Buffy took his left hand in both of hers and couldn’t help but draw closer to him. Her touch allowed a tear to slip over his cheek, and she swept the evidence of his still raw grief away. “I’m here now. Not going anywhere.” Well, not until the next time skip anyway. She slipped her arms around his midsection and hugged him. 

 

He clung to her, burying his face in her hair so that his voice was muffled. “Solid as a rock and warm as the sun.” 

 

“I’m not a rock!” she insisted, resisting the childish urge to stomp her foot in protest.

 

Spike snorted and stroked her hair. “You’re soft and hard in all the right places, love.” 

 

She nudged her nose into his chest. “Better.” 

 

Spike’s muscles tensed again. “Got something to confess.”

 

The door to Spike’s crypt banged open, and Buffy and Spike uncoupled. Giles was silhouetted in the doorway, a grim expression on his face, a flamethrower in his gloved hands, and a protective eye shield hanging around his neck. 

 

“Spike. Do you have the Suvolte eggs?” Giles’s voice was tight with more concern than anger. 

 

Spike didn’t even look at Giles. Arms hanging helplessly at his sides, Spike kept his eyes on Buffy. “That’s what I was trying to confess.”

 

“Oh,” she said softly. She’d known it was probably true, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about his confirmation. 

 

“I don’t rightly know if they’re the Suvolte eggs though. The bloke procuring them told me they were more of a benign sort and a delicacy he wanted to use for – ”

 

“Where are they?” Giles interrupted. 

 

“Downstairs,” Buffy said. When Spike gave her a funny look, she hastily added, gesturing around at his furnishings, “They aren’t up here. Unless you have another place I don’t know about. . .” She trailed off, realizing the eggs could be in the sarcophagi. 

 

Giles repeated, “Where are they?”

 

“Downstairs,” Spike confirmed, slipping into hunting mode. “Tucked back in the space that leads to the sewers. It’s cooler and darker there.” As soon as Spike finished speaking, there were the sounds of small squeaks and skittering feet. “Sodding hell. They’re hatching.” He strode over to the closest sarcophagus and shoved aside the heavy lid. Reaching inside, he produced a long knife and an ax, which he tossed to Buffy. 

 

As she caught the ax by the handle, she remembered that this was early for the babies to be emerging from their eggs, but as with so many changes to the timeline so far, she didn’t question it. “Thanks.” 

 

Giles slipped on the goggles and made some adjustments to his flamethrower, glancing at Buffy.

 

She nodded. “Spike and I’ll head down first, so you don’t get overrun. Follow at my signal?”

 

“Right,” Giles said with grim determination.

 

With a bound and leap, Buffy didn’t bother with the ladder and jumped down the opening to Spike’s dim underground bedroom. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to use the grenade, and Giles wouldn’t have to torch anything. There was momentary silence as her feet hit the floor and she bent at the knees, absorbing the shock of the landing. A moment later, Spike thudded down behind her. Only two candles were lit, but the danger was clear. 

 

There were at least twenty eggs, half of which were hatched – the broken shells covered in whatever oozy goo protected the little buggers. The other half were pulsating and almost glowing with energy. 

 

Spike drew up beside her. His body was humming with an electricity that found its way between them so that Buffy’s muscles hummed, too. They were so going to kick people-slaughtering-mini-demon ass. 

 

Brandishing her ax, Buffy didn’t glance at him but kept humor in her tone. “Not what you expected?” 

 

“Not in the least.” Spike lifted his knife, tilting his head and listening. “Was just trying to make some money for you and the Bit.” He really had been penny-pinching.

 

Something akin to relief and pride swelled in her heart, and she breathed, “I know.”

 

Then, there was a scuttle and another and another until a strident symphony resounded all around them, echoing in the hollow of Spike’s carved-out bedroom. The creatures appeared out of the shadows – all dark and screeching and flying at them all at once in a rapid swarm. Buffy found herself back to back with Spike, and they sliced and feinted and ducked in such easy synchrony that Buffy vaguely wished she could stay in the fight forever. She couldn’t imagine life without him by her side. He sure as hell better come find her this time around. She never wanted anything so much. 

 

Tiny bodies fell, but they also kept coming and coming as more hatched or revived from blows. 

 

The creatures, though babies, were far from tentative or lacking in precision, and there were several near misses. One jumped onto Spike’s head from the wall, and Buffy chopped it off of him just as claws threatened his eye. Spike kicked away another as it tried to go for Buffy’s right hand, which was gripping her weapon. 

 

As she slid the ax blade through the rigid exoskeleton of one baby’s back, a second latched onto her leg. Razor sharp teeth, small like a cat’s, pressed into the muscle of her calf. She almost didn’t hear herself cry out as stars filled her vision, marring what little sight she had in the hazy light. 

 

Seconds ticked by as her Slayer body tried to overcome whatever made the bite so powerful that she almost immediately couldn’t breathe. Her first thought was that she hoped no one she loved died in this skirmish, and then, she couldn’t think and just. . . was. 

 

Something inside her stirred – something she now knew was ancient and powerful, something that those men put inside her, something she rarely even let herself acknowledge was a part of her.

 

With barely any control left, she let that piece of her loose. 

 

Her inner reserves swelled forth, stretching its legs and pouncing on the poison coursing through her veins. As that piece of her fought to hold onto life, she managed to squint from her position on the ground to view Spike ripping the creature off of her leg and roaring in anger as he smashed the tiny creature into mush on the hard floor next to her abdomen. 

 

A stream of brilliant yellow light shot forth, almost blinding her. She slammed her eyes shut again so that her vision was filled with red, and she heard Giles emitting a battle cry as he fanned what she assumed were flames over the remainder of the unhatched eggs. 

 

A harsh sound like a hundred unearthly voices screaming reverberated around the small space, and through the din, she felt strong arms take her so that she was floating up and up. She contemplated that maybe she was dead or dying again, and she really really didn’t want that. Not at all. 

 

So she forced her muscles to move as if to prove that she wasn’t going anywhere. Not again.

 

“Love, you’re okay. No need to fight.” Spike’s words quelled her fear, and as she calmed, he gently laid her on something that was soft beneath her hands. “Be right back. Your Watcher got a little gung ho with the blaze.”

 

Reassured by his words though she wasn’t sure if she believed that she was actually okay, Buffy curled up to wait – her leg throbbing with a deep ache. Something was making the world spin. 

 

There was thudding followed by feet tramping down and then up a ladder just as the door to the crypt slammed open. 

 

Buffy didn’t move – couldn’t move, but she heard a familiar voice say with disdain, “Hello, Doctor.” 

 

All she could think before she lost consciousness was, “Shut up, Riley,” though she had no energy to say it out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Riley may be gentle with Buffy, but he still doesn't like Spike. Went with the more parsimonious interpretation of that very bad plot in As You Were for this fic. Hope you don't mind!
> 
> Up next, confrontation...though Badwolfjedi tells me it's not overly harsh. Ha. That's in keeping with the nature of the fic, I think!


	24. Chapter Thirteen, Confrontation - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently sitting in the kitchen with OffYourBird, yellowb, and amidtheflowers! We are all commiserating about fandom writing. It is one of the most delightful and fun things I've done in a long time! 
> 
> So, I was determined to put a chapter out there while in NY. I will catch up on replies soon...but know that all your comments are incredibly appreciated.

_Dawn_

 

“Anyanka?” Hallie said, her shoulders lowering a little as she relaxed. The jewels on her floor-length dress sparkled in the yellow light of the Magic Box – far from the laidback-I’m-your-friendly-counselor outfit from school. “Your wedding is next week, right? I didn’t get the dates mixed up?”

 

Anya shook her head. “No. You didn’t get the dates mixed up. It’s next week.”

 

Hallie slipped into human guise, which really weirded Dawn out. The veins were gone, and the kind-faced school counselor was front and center. She was beautiful. “Oh, thank goodness.” 

 

Crossing her arms, Anya said, “Yes, thank goodness. But really there’s another matter I need to talk to you about.”

 

Seeming to notice Dawn and Spike hovering next to each other nearby, Hallie frowned. “What’s going on?” She seemed to be trying to make sense of what. . . or maybe whom she was seeing.

 

“Did you meet with Dawn at school, pretending to be the school counselor?” Anya was not one to beat around the bush.

 

Hallie didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not pretending. I am the new counselor. For now. I’ve been meeting with all the students the teachers and other staff recommend I see.”

 

“Bullshit.” 

 

At Anya’s curse, Dawn glanced at Spike to gauge his reaction. He was staring at Hallie with a funny look on his face. Dawn was very confused; something in his eyes said he knew Anya’s friend from somewhere. A demon bar? Too anxious to ask now, Dawn’s eyes flicked back to Hallie. 

 

Hallie continued with her insistence she was just doing her job. “I figured I was in town for your wedding. Why not do a little work on the side? I mean, it is my life’s work. Kids in bad situations and obtaining justice for them.”

 

“I know. But you can’t be doing that with my friends. And definitely not the sister of the Slayer.”

 

“Vengeance does not discriminate, my dear. You, of all people, should know that.”

 

“Yes, but now, I’m human. And I don’t live by those rules anymore.” Anya hesitated before adding, “And I don’t want to live by those rules anymore. Contrary to what you might think, I’m happy with Xander and my life now.”

 

“Uh huh.” Hallie was studying Anya with that look on her face. . . that look that said she was seeing right through her. Dawn knew very well what it was like to be on the receiving end of that stare – a kind and compassionate stare with that not so subtle push underneath. “And since when do we give a fig about Slayers? They have the lifespan of a fly and have their own mission. One we’ve never interfered with.”

 

“Hey!” Dawn protested – her voice finding its way out of her mouth despite her trepidation about confronting the demon. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

 

Lowering her head and taking on a kindly expression, Hallie turned toward Dawn. “And your sister, my dear, has not been there for you like she should. Neither have your so-called friends.” The demon emphasized the last three words, calling Anya out on her neglect. 

 

“My sister got ripped out of heaven and hasn’t exactly been herself. For good reason,” Dawn insisted, crossing her arms as her own temper flared through her chest and heated her cheeks. “She’s been doing the best she can.” Way better than the first time because Buffy had loved ones in her corner in a greater capacity. “And so has Spike.” 

 

Dawn glanced over her shoulder at Spike, whose uneasiness was still striking. He was keeping his face unmoving, which really wasn’t like him at all. What was up with him?

 

Hallie continued her tender approach. “While in general I find it interesting that a vampire would take care of a child, I’m not surprised by this one.” 

 

Wait. What? Dawn narrowed her eyes at the justice demon. “Huh? Why?” 

 

This time, Halfrek gave Spike a pointed look with both eyebrows raised. “Because he always did have a good heart despite what I said to him at the time we knew each other.”

 

“What?” Anya sounded irritated. “How do you know Spike?”

 

Spike remained uncharacteristically silent. 

 

Hallie smiled. “He didn’t know this at the time, but I was seeking justice for someone else at the party we were both attending. I’d been undercover for some time, and let’s just say that William developed a little crush on me.”

 

Dawn’s mouth dropped open as her brain worked to sort out what Halfrek was saying. “So, you knew Spike when he was human?”

 

“Uh huh.” 

 

Dawn gave Spike a look, and he shrugged a shoulder, trying way too hard to be nonchalant. “Bird’s telling the truth.”

 

“Oh, for crying out loud. This whole line of discussion is irrelevant.” Anya rolled her eyes. “Past life stuff isn’t at all what needs addressing.”

 

Hallie pursed her lips in annoyance. Annoyance was probably not of the good. “And what are you trying to address?”

 

Dawn was desperately tired of beating around the bush. “I need to know if you did anything with my dad to make him want custody of me all of a sudden. I know for sure that I didn’t make a wish in front of you, but I do remember saying something about my parents not being there. And since my mom is dead, that leaves my dad. And he’s never taken an interest before.” She took a deep breath because that was a lot of words all at once. “Did you do something to my dad to make him suddenly want custody of me?” 

 

The annoyance gave way to amusement. “Anyanka, you’ve taught her well.” Maybe there was a little bit of being impressed in there, too. The demon was suddenly fixing her gaze on Dawn a little too hard. “There’s something about you that’s. . . different.” 

 

Dawn tried not to let her panic show. Was Halfrek seeing that Dawn was a key to another dimension or that she was a time jumper? Or was she just damned good at making people squirm? 

 

Anya huffed. “Just answer the question, Hallie. O-or I’m disinviting you to the wedding.”

 

Hallie shot her a wounded look and then sighed. “Fine. Yes, yes, I did do something.”

 

“What did you do?” Spike’s words were hard – scary hard. . . like ripping Hallie’s throat out hard. History or no, Dawn knew he didn’t take kindly to anyone hurting his girls. 

 

“Same thing I always do in cases like this. If the kid in pain won’t make a wish, I go to their parents. Force them to do the thing they should have been doing in the first place. Nine times out of ten, it causes the parent heartbreak and/or wakes up those around the kid to be more supportive of him or her.” Hallie rattled this off like she had a well-used formula. 

 

Dawn couldn’t help but retort, “That makes no sense at all. Do you know how stressed out this has made me?”

 

“Yes. But in the long run, it will help you. I’ve seen it time and again over the centuries, especially with the fathers.”

 

Anya coughed – a loud, fake cough. “Daddy issues.”

 

“You’re just as bad as the people you’re trying to punish,” Spike added. “Know I’m supposed to think that’s a good thing. . . ”

 

“But it’s not when it comes to the people you care about,” Anya finished as he trailed off.

 

“That’s so human of you, Anyanka. And you, William. A vampire with no soul teaming up with a Slayer.” Hallie shook her head in amusement. “And what can I say? I’m still a demon. A demon who works for D’Hoffryn. As long as I do my job well enough to please him, I get to satisfy my little mission on the side.”

 

“Fix it. Undo it. Stop it.” Dawn found herself on a roll – her own chin lifting as she stood her ground. “I have everything I need with the people in my life now. I don’t care what you have to do. I don’t care if you have to punish my dad. Just don’t kill him. He’s not worth it.” 

 

“But you’re hurting,” Hallie countered.

 

“So? Aren’t most of the people on the planet? Pick a different kid to ‘save.’” 

 

Hallie touched her index finger to her lower lip as she narrowed her eyes again. “See there’s that thing that’s different.” 

 

Spike edged slightly in front of Dawn, who was grateful for his cover. “And you’ll do best to mind the girl’s desire for this to be reversed.”

 

“Disinviting,” Anya added. 

 

“Know exactly how that feels,” Spike said with the barest touch of irony.

 

Before Halfrek could respond, the door to the Magic Box burst open and in marched Willow. The non-magic-using witch was dragging someone male and very very short along with her. She flung him forward toward the Magic Box group. 

 

“Look who I found lurking around outside the back alley behind the shop,” Willow announced.

 

“Jonathan,” Anya exasperation ratcheted up further. “Why were you lurking? That’s so not cool. Lurk somewhere else. Not around my shop.”

 

The short young man flinched, dropped the large duffel bag he was carrying to the floor and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Last time Dawn remembered seeing him, he’d had his own swimsuit calendar and been a movie superstar. That had been majorly weird. Now, he wasn’t holding his head high or speaking confidently or even making eye contact. Her heart ached a little for him. “I-I was just trying to work up the nerve to come in.”

 

“But you know us,” Willow said, softening. “You don’t have to be all lurky even if you are keeping terrible company nowadays.”

 

“W-well, that’s why I wasn’t sure. . . but I made up my mind and. . . ,” Jonathan brought up the heavy duffel and dropped with a clunk on the table as everyone watched with bated breath. He unzipped the bag – his hands trembling for just a moment. Then, he pulled out a mustard-yellow envelope and a dirty, wadded up T-shirt that was way too big for him. He tossed them into the middle of the table as if they had cooties. “There.”

 

“What is this, Jonathan?” Anya asked, plucking at the T-shirt with a half-confused, half-disgusted expression on her face.

 

“That. That’s all you need to find him and get him locked up.” Jonathan met Anya’s gaze, and Dawn saw the determination there – the first hint of the Jonathan from the spell. 

 

“Ooo.” Hallie slapped her hands together and rubbed. “Sounds like something juicy. Would you like to – ”

 

“No,” Spike said with simple firmness – his hand touching her forearm. Dawn couldn’t help but think Buffy might be a little jealous at the obvious connection in the way she glanced at him in surprise. “You have other matters to attend to.”

 

“This one doesn’t involve a child, Hallie,” Anya added. She nodded at the shirt. “Obviously.” 

 

Halfrek gestured at the offensive object. “How do you know – ?” 

 

“Do I have to say it again?” Anya picked up the seating chart. Her hand covered one of the tiny squares and threatened to rip it off the display. Dawn suppressed a nervous laugh.

 

Hallie looked genuinely wounded. “Fine. Anyanka, you still got it.” She fixed Dawn’s eyes with hers. “I’m only doing this because you’re Anya’s friend and because I really want to come to the wedding. You should know that your dad’s a piece of work, and you deserve a better father. Someone who will be in your life and paying attention. You’re sure you don’t want to make a wish?”

 

Spike’s nostrils flared, but Dawn needed this one. She smiled. “I’m sure I don’t want to. I have all of my family right here. Sometimes your family is the one you find. . . they’re the ones that don’t go away even when you screw up massively.” She glanced at Anya briefly. “Thank you for trying though.”

 

Hallie set her jaw; she was so completely unhappy with this turn of events. “I’ll see you at the wedding, Anyanka.” With a snap of her well-manicured finger, she disappeared in a cloud of dramatic smoke. 

 

Anya turned to Spike. “You didn’t tell me you knew Halfrek.”

 

“I didn’t know her as Halfrek, and how the bloody hell was I supposed to know you’re best pals with her?” Spike gestured at the wretched-looking Jonathan. “’Sides, we have bigger fish to fry. Or rather, smaller.” Spike addressed Jonathan. “So, I take it you want us to find that git, Warren, who tried to convince Buffy that she’d committed a murder.”

 

Jonathan straightened his shoulders a little. “Well, technically, I performed the glamour that made Buffy think she was seeing Katrina screaming for help, and Andrew summoned the demon who – ”

 

“Warren’s the mastermind though,” Willow interrupted, her voice carrying more weight because she’d been hanging back for a bit. She held what seemed like a small camera in one hand. She passed it off to Spike who gave her an inquiring look. Willow mimed a smashing gesture.

 

Jonathan scowled, finding some fire. “Hey! Not too long ago, I was boss of all of you!” 

 

Dawn watched as Spike lifted an eyebrow but crushed the small object and handed the pieces back to Willow, who smiled at him. 

 

“Magically-induced boss of us,” Anya muttered, oddly enough looking kind of guilty, which was confusing to Dawn. 

 

“You’re right.” Jonathan sighed before continuing, “Warren killed Katrina. And I’d like him to be locked up for it. I-I keep having these bad dreams about her. About what we did to cover it up.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if he knew he deserved to be having nightmares. When he opened them again, he focused on Willow. “I need you to do the location spell to find Warren.”

 

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Willow asked as she lifted her hand as if to fend off his request. There was a tinge of panic in her tone, and she took a step back from the group.

 

Jonathan seemed puzzled by her hesitancy. “Because I can’t find Warren. And if I can’t find him, it means he’s put up a block of some sort against me. I don’t think he liked my reaction to any of it.”

 

Dawn rescued her friend. “Willow can’t do magic right now. Well, she needs to find her balance again and not go to – ”

 

“She can’t?” Jonathan seemed completely taken aback. “Why not? I just really need someone else to do it that he isn’t pissed at. A-and I want to get out of dodge as soon as possible. Andrew keeps following me around. He’s like a puppy with a bone, trying to convince me that Warren will reward us for being loyal even though he’s disappeared. I know better. If I don’t want to end up dead, I have to get out of here.”

 

“So, you thought you’d let the Slayer clean up your mess?” Spike asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Jonathan shook his head once. “No. I want him arrested. I’m calling the cops on Warren. Giving them an anonymous tip, and once he’s located. . . . Well, the police can arrest him. Why can’t Willow do magic? She’s. . . you’re a badass.”

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Willow said a little breathlessly. “Tara can help. I’ll just go. . . ,” she pointed in the direction of the shop’s phone and started walking its direction, “call her right now.”

 

Dawn felt conflicted about Willow not taking a chance about finding the middle ground with magic like they’d talked about earlier, but she was also excited to see Tara again. Love for the blonde witch swelled in Dawn’s heart. She really wanted to witness the renewed relationship between the two witches – something she’d only caught in glimpses in her past self’s recent memory. And if Tara had to die again, Dawn hoped that their full reunion was sooner than later, so they’d have as many moments as possible. 

 

But time travel didn’t play by Dawn’s desires, and the hint of cinnamon that whispered through the air heralded her next skip ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the little seeds here... next up, the aftermath of Riley and the demon eggs.


	25. Chapter Thirteen, Confrontation - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm super behind on comment replies! They are coming; I'm finally settling in after the NYC trip (I still feel like I'm there...ahhhh!). And my muse had me writing chapter 15 (both Dawn and Buffy parts), but I promise that badwolfjedi and I cherish each note and will respond soon! Just thought you might want something to read this week.
> 
> For reasons you will see, I love this chapter...and it turned out very different than I expected. Expect little Riley. He's here but mostly done for this segment of the fic. Expect Sam. She came out of left field for me. Hope you like it and hope she feels right. I rewatched to see how she was but added a little more to her character to hopefully feel more human. 
> 
> Badwolfjedi did a beautiful job of capturing all the seemingly little but very significant bits of this chapter and for that I'm incredibly grateful!

_Buffy_

Somewhere between Spike’s crypt and home, Buffy had lost consciousness again as the bounce of Riley’s vehicle sent shockwaves of pain through her system. Now, her brain came back online with the plushness of the living room sofa cradling her, the scent of home bringing her relief, and the slightly more muted throb of pain in her leg like an insistent, thick fog over it all. 

 

Two British voices were speaking in hushed tones, and Buffy kept her eyes tightly shut and her breathing slow, so she could listen without them knowing. Though the owner of one of the voices would know she was awake if he were paying attention, the tension in the conversation seemed to be distracting him. Buffy was grateful for that because part of her really thought two of the men she loved the most had been needing a conversation.

 

“And you had no idea that this so-called egg dealer was looking for his own army of weapons for international warfare or that he called himself ‘the Doctor’?” Giles sounded less pissed and more. . . curious? 

 

Spike’s voice was quiet, but Buffy felt his frustration with every word. “I bloody well didn’t know about any of that! His goons said he wanted the eggs to serve at his ‘family reunion.’ He didn’t say how he’d serve them. And I sure as hell wouldn’t work with anyone calling himself ‘the Doctor’!”

 

“I know what you did with Doc. The other one.” Giles conceded almost so softly that Buffy couldn’t hear him. 

 

“Yeah. Well. I just did what needed doing. Even though it was way too late.” Spike sounded sad. 

 

Buffy realized that Spike and Giles had something in common the night she’d died. They’d both killed enemies when she hadn’t been able to. They’d done what needed to be done. . . the way she had. Only the current pain in leg kept her from crying with the swell of emotion that flooded her chest – grief for what she’d lost, sadness about their anguish, pride at their determination, and love. . . so much love for them both. She wanted to weep at that – the simplicity and gravity of the ability to love. At that moment, she missed her sister, having no idea which Dawn was this skip’s Dawn. Buffy longed to be back in her bed, touching forehead and knees with her little sister. 

 

Spike was still talking. “In any case, the current sod is dead, the eggs are done for, and all I’m bloody well worried about is Buffy.”

 

“As we should be.” Giles’s tone matched Spike’s – the room felt heavy with concern. “What the bloody hell is taking so long?”

 

“The soldier’s lady is sure taking her sweet time. I’m gonna go check on her.” Spike made an unobtrusive sound that was almost imperceptible to anyone but a Slayer. She knew he’d moved across the room, and she hadn’t even opened her eyes. 

 

“No!” Giles hissed. “Give them a few more minutes. She and Tara need to concentrate, so it doesn’t blow up in their faces.”

 

Spike sighed. “Literally.” There was a heartbeat of quiet and then, “Solid work with the blowtorch.” 

 

“Thank you.” Giles sounded incredibly pleased with himself. “Not really sure why we don’t use fire more on Buffy’s patrols.”

 

“Well, for one, it’d set more things on fire than it would help, and though I don’t mind playing with fire, I don’t plan on doing so in battle on a regular basis.” 

 

“And you’re on patrol with Buffy a lot these days.” Giles’s tone was tired, and he was ignoring the fact that he knew that Spike was in her bed almost every single night. God, Buffy couldn’t imagine not sleeping next to Spike now; there were so many nights – more than she ever dreamed of. 

 

“I am.” Buffy could imagine Spike narrowing his eyes in challenge. He was used to having to protect himself. 

 

“Which I’m grateful for. Buffy’s. . . well, Buffy’s not been okay and for good reason.” Giles was silent for a moment. “And as much as I don’t like to completely admit it, I appreciate you being there for her. I don’t rightly know if it’s healthy for her to be leaning on you so much. But I won’t be fighting her on it. Not anymore. She has bigger fish to fry with figuring out how to live again, dealing with the business with her father, and coming to terms with the possibility of some shift in the world’s supernatural power balance without me being a bit rigid regarding my experience and knowledge of vampires.” 

 

Buffy bookmarked the power-balance issue to think about later when her leg wasn’t hurting so much; she bit her tongue to keep from crying out. Instead, she focused on Spike.

 

“A bit rigid?” The skepticism was real. 

 

Spike didn’t say more than that because Giles rushed onward – his voice edged with tightness. “This doesn’t mean that I unequivocally trust you.”

 

“Didn’t expect that it would.” Spike’s defensiveness was rising again, and Buffy’s heart ached that he had so little hope of acceptance from anyone. 

 

“H-how’s Buffy?” Dawn’s voice was hesitant and filled with fear from the doorway to the dining room. 

 

Spike’s intonation completely changed to one of tenderness – tender like he’d been with Buffy the night she came back. “She’s gonna be all right, lil Bit. She’s. . .” Buffy knew when Spike paused that he realized she was awake. “She’s waking up.” He was now suspicious of how much she’d heard; Buffy knew it. 

 

Dawn approached, and Buffy felt her weight settle lightly onto the sofa next to her. “Xander sent me in. I was being too anxious.”

 

“For him,” Spike noted evenly. Somehow, he didn’t let the irritation that he still had with Xander shine through. 

 

“Maybe.” 

 

“It’s all right, Dawn. You can touch her,” Giles said with equal gentleness. 

 

Buffy felt Dawn pick up her hand, her warm fingers grasping hers, so Buffy took that opportunity to open her eyes. Her eyelids were heavier than she thought they’d be. “H-hey.” Her voice came out hoarse with pain. “I’m okay.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Dawn observed with all the world knowledge of a teenager who’d been through too much but still had her tender youthful underbelly; this wasn’t Buffy’s Dawn. Her sister had grown past that in her last year in Sunnydale. Buffy wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “You don’t have to be brave when you’re in pain. Sam and Tara are almost done with an antidote. Apparently, the bite will be all un-heal-y and get worse and worse without it.” She wrinkled her nose.

 

“What’s that look?” Buffy asked. “Do I have to drink something really gross?” She winced when she moved her leg even a fraction of an inch and tried to prop herself up. The world spun. She hadn’t felt this bad since Caleb threw her around the room at the high school. She fell back into the sofa’s embrace. 

 

Dawn shook her head vigorously. “No, it’s just an IV. The look is about. . . certain people who are being completely obnoxious together.” Buffy had a feeling she knew who the offending parties were.

 

“They almost done?” Spike asked. His blue eyes were filled with urgency. 

 

Buffy saw Sam breeze around the corner, a clear bag of greenish fluid in one hand and tubing in another. Tara and Willow were just behind her, and Buffy noted that their fingers were twined together. 

 

Sam smiled at Buffy. “We’re done.”

 

Buffy managed to hold up her arm, vein proffered, without too much effort. “Ready to feel better please. Make the world less spin-y and stab-y?”

 

“You see. You’re not okay.” Dawn stood and moved to one side, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. There was the teenager again. 

 

Buffy shrugged a shoulder – one corner of her mouth going up. “Hiding my pain. It’s what I do.” 

 

Giles appeared next to Spike. “And that’s just the thing. You don’t need to do that. We’re here to lean on.” 

 

“What he said,” Spike added, admitting in front of everyone that he agreed with her Watcher. 

 

“You’re here to pull me kicking and screaming into the land of vulnerability?” Buffy forced the levity.

 

“Yes,” Tara said softly. “Yes, we are.” Willow stroked the blonde witch’s forearm and just smiled.

 

Sam took Dawn’s former place. She glanced up at Spike. “I need something to hang this from.”

 

Spike nodded and peeled off to retrieve the heavily laden coat rack, no doubt. 

 

“And,” Sam continued in her bestest commando voice, “I’d like to give Buffy some privacy. From what I’ve seen, the antidote will eradicate the poison, but it will take some time. She’ll need her rest.”

 

“Resting sounds of the good,” Buffy said faintly, wondering why nothing was easy in her line of work. 

 

Sam smiled at her with kindness – no trace of animosity or jealousy. Buffy seemed to recall that Sam had been perfect the last time, too. 

 

“Buffy, do you think you could manage a move to your room?” Giles asked with sympathy in his expression. 

 

Buffy felt a “yes” asserting itself as it usually did, but then, she considered what he’d just said. She shook her head and barely managed, “N-not on my own. Maybe if someone carries me?”

 

“That’s best,” Sam agreed. “Moving too much makes the venom take hold more quickly than it already is.”

 

“I got her.” Still dressed all in black commando gear, Riley pushed past Spike, who was holding the coat rack sans jackets and hats. 

 

Spike glared and let the wood fall sideways. Oh, boy, that wasn’t good, but for once, Buffy didn’t have the energy to intervene. “Uh, I don’t think so, mate.”

 

Puffing himself up, Riley loomed over Spike. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble. Doctor.”

 

Spike lost it then and shoved Riley so hard that Buffy’s ex stumbled back and fell over her weapon’s chest. He crashed to the floor, but the sound was drowned out by Spike crying out in pain as his chip fired. Spike somehow didn’t drop the coat rack, and though in obvious agony, he spat out, “I would never use that pseudonym, you pillock.” 

 

Xander appeared, rolling his eyes with Anya just behind him. “Spike. I agree with Riley. You’ve done enough damage as it is. What in god’s name were you thinking with having those eggs in your crypt? Was it your way of trying to get everyone killed? ‘Cause news flash, you almost did, and now Buffy’s almost dead again, and – ”

 

Spike rubbed his temple, probably too sore to lash out again. “As if you don’t make your own mistakes. The whole sodding lot of you.”

 

Xander lost his temper then. Buffy saw it, and with distance and time, she knew it was born of his own guilt. “Why don’t you just leave? Go back to your moldy, torched crypt and clean it up. No need to come back around here anytime soon. You won’t be welcome. Certainly not in Buffy’s bed.” 

 

Riley had bounced back and addressed Buffy as if no one else was in the room, including his wife. “I can’t believe you’d stoop this low. You deserve better.” It was a contrast to the gentleness he’d shown her after the yogurt shop; Buffy supposed it had more to do with believing Spike had anything to do with trying to destroy the world. 

 

“Spike’s been helping us. A lot,” Dawn moved to stand between Xander and Spike – a move Buffy was grateful for because she was feeling weaker by the moment. “I don’t know why I keep having to remind you of that. It’s getting old. Between the time Buffy was invisible to the wedding planning to now. Xander, why can’t you just chill out? He’s not Angelus. He’s not going to kill any of us. Even if he wanted to, he can’t because,” Dawn pointed back at Riley, “they put a chip in his head.” She pivoted toward Riley, but with him, her tone was more wounded. “And you left. Without saying goodbye. That hurt. A lot.”

 

Riley slumped a little and was silent for a few seconds. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have at least talked with you.” Riley looked like he wanted to hug her, and no matter how big an asshole he was being now, Buffy hoped that he and Dawn would have their moment. Her sister needed it.

 

“Darn right you should have.” Dawn gripped her elbows – the only sign of the level of her vulnerability. “And we will have a talk this time before you leave. Unless you need to rush out to another mission.” There was sarcasm in that last statement. 

 

Sam spoke up, her voice even but unruffled. “Ri will have plenty of time to talk with you, Dawn. The mission can wait. Well, the mission is here until we get Buffy healed.”

 

“Speaking of which,” Giles interrupted, pulling his glasses off his head and holding them by the arm, “Buffy needs that antidote. There’s no time for arguing or room for posturing. Spike, I’ll take the coat rack. You carry Buffy.” 

 

“I’m coming,” Dawn insisted, her jaw set. 

 

“Of course,” Giles agreed, adjusting his glasses back into place. Buffy was vaguely amused that he hadn’t even pulled out a handkerchief to polish them; he was nervous, too. “And Sam. No one else. We can’t afford more distraction as this is a crucial moment.” He gave the room a do-not-challenge-me glare. 

 

No one said another word, and before Buffy knew what was happening, Spike’s arms were easing with gentle slowness under her. She held her breath and bit her tongue hard to avoid crying out in pain. Instead, she let out a low moan as he gathered her close. Without thinking, she tucked her head into his neck as she rode the crashing tsunami of pain. 

 

“Shhh, love,” he whispered so low that Buffy was sure no one heard but her. “It’ll be done in a moment.”

 

Buffy blacked out again on the way up the stairs, and she woke again with an agonizing resurgence of sharp pain from Spike laying her on her side of their bed. Buffy kept her eyes closed, barely registering movement and sounds all around her. She felt a warm hand in hers – Dawn’s, the prick of a needle in the vein at her elbow, and the cool rush of fluid entering her body. 

 

Then, there was nothing but peaceful sleep. . . not peaceful like heaven had been, of course. But the relief from the physical pain was such a contrast that it might as well have been. There were no dreams. 

 

When Buffy woke, the room was dark; it was still night, and Dawn was curled up under the covers beside her. Buffy lifted her head and gingerly tested her leg. No dizziness and no pain. Thankfully. She discovered that her sleeve was split apart, and her fingers found gauze and a Band-Aid covering the crook of her arm. She vaguely wondered if Riley and Sam were gone, but Buffy’s Slayer sense was telling her other people were in the room. She pushed herself up with slowness, so she didn’t wake Dawn.

 

The dim light from the light outside snuck around the edge of the curtains to show that someone had dragged in two of the comfier chairs in the house. Buffy’s vampire was asleep in one, and her Watcher was his twin in the other. They were both going to regret that choice in the morning; she almost giggled at the memory of Spike calling a very similar chair a “diabolical old torture device.” Her heart tightened with love for all three of the people crammed into the bedroom with her. She felt safe, and she felt loved. 

 

With that realization, Buffy snuggled back down under the covers and let exhaustion take her by the hand and guide her into sleep. 

 

Sunlight greeted her when she startled awake. This time, Dawn, Spike, and Giles were gone, and Sam was sitting next to her on the bed, opening up a black kit of some sort. No doubt, it contained more James-Bond-type devices. 

 

“Hey. Sorry,” Sam said, pulling out a very familiar looking blood pressure cuff. “Ri and I need to get on the road, and I wanted to check your vitals one more time before we jet.” She smiled as if a little amused with herself. “Literally.” 

 

Buffy sat up, feeling self-conscious about her hair when Sam appeared so polished and put together. “Oh.” Buffy rolled up her ruined shirt sleeve. “Of course.” She gave the other woman a half-smile. “It worked. The antidote.”

 

Sam adjusted the cuff around Buffy’s slim arm. “It did. I’m thankful. Magic and science aren’t things I was always used to, but I’ve learned the mix is invaluable in the field.” Sam pressed a button on the machine, and the cuff began to tighten. “By the way, your friend, Tara. She’s a good witch. Powerful but careful. Not everyone knows what to do with that kind of power.”

 

“I know. I don’t think she gives herself enough credit.” 

 

There was an awkward silence as Buffy felt her blood pumping in her veins – proof of how alive she was, and then, Sam said, “Part of me also wanted an excuse to talk with you. You mean a lot to my husband.” Sam was not possessive of Riley; Buffy appreciated this confidence in him more this time around than before. Their relationship was a good one. It was solid. “You gave him something that I don’t think that you realize. Something that’s saved our lives more than once, and something that makes me fall in love with him more every day.” Sam rolled her eyes at herself as the machine beeped. “I know it sounds really cheesy. Your blood pressure is perfect by the way.” 

 

“Thanks.” Buffy tugged off the cuff and handed it to Sam. “What did I give Riley?”

 

Sam accepted the cuff and tucked it back into the bag. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. He was messed up when I met him. I think he was still sorting everything he’d gone through in Sunnydale. Here. And it wasn’t all about you. I mean, it took him a while to open up about what happened between the two of you. The lack of communication on his part. The hard stuff you were going through.” Sam didn’t elaborate on that part, which strangely enough made Buffy feel grateful toward the other woman. “The suck houses. But before that even, what changed him was everything that went down with Maggie Walsh and the Initiative.”

 

“It was a lot,” Buffy acknowledged. Last time, she hadn’t stopped to recognize all the repercussions of the fall of the Initiative on Riley and how he’d handled the aftermath in their relationship. She had compassion for her old self in this; she’d been more than distracted with Dawn, her mom, and Glory. 

 

“It was. You know, we’re trained to always tow the party line, and for the most part, in our special section of the military, we do. But there are times when rules have to be bent to survive. There are times when the grey matters, and Ri learned that here. From you.” Sam met Buffy’s eyes with her own. The compassion remained, and there was something else present, too – something Buffy couldn’t identify. “I know you went after him when he set down that ridiculous ultimatum. He told me you told him. I’m thankful. I’m thankful more than you know that he didn’t see you coming after him.” Buffy didn’t know what to say, so she waited for Sam to continue. “My life hasn’t been perfect either, and I needed Ri the way he needed me after Sunnydale. So. . . thank you. I’ll always be grateful.” She drew a deep breath.

 

As a mix of regret, sadness, jealousy, and relief washed over Buffy, she found herself covering Sam’s hand with hers. “You’re welcome.” 

 

Sam breathed out and smiled. “I know that part of him will always love you, and I’m okay with that. I know he loves me, too, and that we’re good together. I know he’s not going anywhere. He learned that lesson, too, about commitment.”

 

“What about commitment?” Buffy asked as Sam stood. 

 

“That when you love someone, you stay. You stick it out, and you fight. You work it out even if the other person’s going through a rough patch. Or even if you’re both going through rough patches.” 

 

Buffy immediately thought of Spike, and it took everything inside of her not to go to him at that moment. She wanted to touch him again and remind herself that he was real and solid and here in this timeline. . . that he wanted to be with her. Tears filled her eyes. He hadn’t wanted to be with her when he came back in L.A. “Yeah.”

 

“Spike is that for you,” Sam said simply. “He’s a vampire. A vampire with no soul who loves you and who refuses to leave you.”

 

Buffy nodded, the lump in her throat too big to speak around.

 

“And you love him.” 

 

Buffy nodded again but found her voice. “I do.” It was easier to tell a stranger than her friends. A stranger could judge, and it wouldn’t matter. Right? But that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. 

 

“Wow. That’s just amazing. I learn something new every day.” Sam studied Buffy. “Riley may judge your relationship with Spike pretty harshly, but it’s because Ri’s protective of you. His love for you blinds him to the truth, I think.” Sam started to walk out the door but then hesitated. “Don’t let him go. Your vampire.” 

 

Buffy blinked back tears. “I-I won’t.” 

 

“Good. It was nice to meet you, Buffy.” Sam smiled – a genuine smile.

 

Buffy returned the expression. Her heart was warm in her chest. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m glad Riley has you.”

 

“Thanks. Me, too.” Then, Sam was gone.

 

Before Buffy could decide what to do next, she caught a whiff of cinnamon. Glad she had the antidote before another jump, she braced herself for the leap through time. In the last moment, she was amused to realize that Sam hadn’t really checked her vitals at all, but their talk had unintentionally been a check on Buffy’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be consequences to Sam's talk with Buffy...happy ones.


	26. Chapter Fourteen, Hazards Ahead - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the posting delay! I decided as the story is getting more complicated that it needs a beta. Too many details to keep straight between Dawn and Buffy's skips. So it took me longer than normal. 
> 
> So, I owe a huge thank you amidtheflowers for being willing to take this on! I asked her in NY and she said sure! I owe you for sure! Thank you for your help!
> 
> Also the mood board by Badwolfjedi is phenomenol! I love the quotes she chose and the images. I forgot just how green their dresses were! Omg.

 

_Dawn_

 

As the magic settled her back into her body, Dawn blinked. She was gazing out at a bunch of people in fancy dress clothes. They were sitting around large round, flower-encrusted tables and staring at her. A microphone was inches from her mouth. What the heck? 

 

She peeked down at her body and saw that she was wearing the electric green bridesmaid dress from Anya’s wedding. But wait. This looked like the reception, and Dawn was giving a junior bridesmaid toast? She glimpsed the cold champagne glass full of golden sparkly liquid that she was half-holding up. No way in hell did it contain actual champagne. Buffy wouldn’t let her. And had Xander and Anya gotten married?! 

 

A quick glance back at the avid crowd told her that yes, the wedding had actually happened in this timeline! And there were Xander and Anya sitting at their honorary table, both smiling at her. Was that a little glare in Anya’s eyes? Uh oh. 

 

Dawn’s mind boggled. Xander and Anya had actually gotten married, and now Dawn was in trouble?

 

She had absolutely no idea what she’d been saying, but she had a vague memory of talking about her past crush on Xander and telling some sort of joke about the creature in one of the gift boxes – the creature with tentacles. Oh, boy. Her past self was a total fail at toasts – same as cooking experiments and introductions on the first day of school. 

 

Panic filled Dawn’s chest as she realized that she had no idea how to recover from that. People in the crowd shifted, waiting for her to continue. She caught Spike’s eye where he was sitting across from Buffy with a big flower arrangement between them. He smirked and winked at her, which somehow helped her find her voice. “So, um,” she hesitated as the microphone squealed a little with its feedback, “here’s to Anya and Xander having a long and happy life together! I love you both!” 

 

Dawn’s face grew hot, and she didn’t bother to stay up on the little stage to watch people clinking glasses. She suddenly had to get to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face and fast. Jumping off the stage, she ignored the gawkers, including her sister, who was standing to head to the front to give her own toast. 

 

“Dawnie?” Buffy asked as Dawn rushed by.

 

“I’m okay. Bathroom,” Dawn managed, setting the champagne flute on the table. 

 

“O-okay.” 

 

Dawn somehow found her way to the back of the room, brushed past a woman who stood as Dawn passed her table, leaving the warm reception room and inhaling the cool air in the empty foyer. 

 

“Hello?” An older male voice came from her right, interrupting her scan for bathrooms.

 

“Hi,” she said to the man in a trench coat, who was leaning heavily on a rain-drenched, folded umbrella. Dawn didn’t know him, but there was something about his eyes that seemed vaguely familiar. “Can I help you?” 

 

“I’m looking for Xander. Have you seen him?” There was something about the inflection the man used that gave Dawn pause. 

 

“Um, if you’re looking for the wedding, you’ve come to the right place. The reception is in full swing. Toasts are being given.” Deeply embarrassing toasts by yours truly. 

 

Something flashed across the man’s face. Disappointment? 

 

Dawn found herself reassuring him. “You didn’t miss the cake though. Are you a friend of Xander’s from. . . work?” She couldn’t picture this man working construction. Not at all. 

 

“Sort of.” 

 

“Dawn!” A familiar voice called from behind her. Dawn immediately felt irritated. 

 

As the old man wove around her to head into the party, Dawn spun around and crossed her arms, shooting daggers at Hallie. “You’re here.” 

 

Hallie lifted an amused eyebrow at her and pushed a hip to one side in her wedding garb, which thankfully was not something vengeance-y like trophies from her victims. Anya had gone into great, lengthy descriptions of traditional wedding garb after Hallie had left on inventory day. “Of course I am. Did you really think Anyanka would really ban me from her wedding?” 

 

“Um, yeah.” Dawn reached back a bit and discovered that she and Buffy hadn’t heard from their father, but his lawyer had reached out to their lawyer and called the whole court thing off yesterday. Great. So, Hallie had come through at the last minute somehow; that didn’t make Dawn trust the justice demon any more than she could throw her. 

 

“I did my part to fix things the way you wanted. And I was only trying to help.” Hallie’s eyes flashed. She was indignant that Dawn didn’t appreciate her meddling.

 

“Why do you want me to trust you so badly? It’s obvious that I’m not going to make a wish the way you want me to. And even though he’s done awful things, my dad’s not worth the effort.” Dawn’s heart ached a little at this. She still wished her father would come around; she supposed that came with the absentee father package. She was a walking cliché between the childish hopes and the terrible toasts, but at least she could hold her head high. 

 

“Maybe he’s not worth the effort, but you are.” Hallie took a step toward her.

 

Dawn sighed. “Don’t go starting with that counselor mumbo jumbo again.”

 

Hallie moved closer. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

“What did you mean?” Dawn resisted the urge to roll her eyes the way her past self would have.

 

“There’s something different about you. Every time I’m around you, I sense it. At first, I wasn’t sure what it was, but now. Hmm.” Hallie tilted her head, her stare making Dawn feel naked. “I don’t know. And there’s something about your sister, too, that I didn’t know until today.”

 

Dawn’s heart leaped into her throat and that urge to get away rose up again. “W-what do you mean?”

 

Hallie was suddenly in Dawn’s face, her hand going up to Dawn’s cheek. “There’s a shift.”

 

Dawn knocked the demon’s hand away without thinking. “Don’t touch me.” Miraculously, her eyes fell on the bathroom door. “I’m not talking to you anymore. Leave me alone!” The last part came out more teenager-y than she meant as she ran to the bathroom, slammed the door shut behind her, and locked the door. 

 

Dawn backed away from the entrance like Hallie might burst through the door at any moment. As her fingers found the cold tile on the wall behind her, Dawn really, really wished that Buffy had already bought them cell phones so that back-up would be in easy reach. Dawn held her breath as the seconds ticked by. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

Finally, Dawn allowed herself to take a breath. Did Hallie know she was the key to a hell dimension or a time traveler? Dawn was starting to suspect the latter, and that was not of the good. Not at all. She really hoped her Buffy was here and not past-Buffy. 

 

As Dawn’s breathing went back to normal, she splashed some cold water on her face. As she patted her skin dry with a paper towel, she stared at her wide, terrified eyes in the mirror. What was she going to do? Hallie’s boss was out there, probably ready to pounce on her for one reason or another. Oh, god. Dawn wanted to throw up. 

 

There was a soft knock on the door. 

 

Dawn almost jumped out of her skin. “Go away!” she shouted, willing the fear not to come through in her voice.

 

“Bit, it’s me.” Spike’s tone was gentle but determined. “Let me in.”

 

“Spike?” She had to make sure. Nothing was as it seemed. 

 

“It’s me.” She heard him sigh. “Who else watches the bloody X-Files with you and made the pizza guy separate your anchovy pie from mine?”

 

“And me! I’m here, too.” Buffy was with him. Thank god. 

 

Relief pouring through her, Dawn threw open the door for her family. “Hi,” she said brightly.

 

“Hi, yourself,” Buffy said. Her eyes were filled with big sisterly concern. She was holding Spike’s hand – her fingers laced loosely with his. Spike looked handsome in the black suit jacket Buffy had helped him pick out for the wedding, and her face was lit with feelings for him (and not just because of the neon dress). So much for table décor working its separation magic. 

 

Dawn had to ask. She just did even though she suspected this wasn’t her Buffy. “Cria?”

 

“Do huh?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s that, lil Bit?”

 

“Is that some sort of slang I don’t know the meaning of?” Buffy frowned. “God, I sound old.” She glanced at Spike. “Am I so old that I no longer know teenage speak?”

 

Spike rolled his eyes at her. “No, love, you’re not old. Far, far from it. Me on the other hand. . .” 

 

“Thanks. And you still look very good for your age.” She gave him a teasing examination and beamed at him. Then, she turned her attention back to Dawn. “What happened in there? You ran off after your toast.”

 

Dawn was relieved that they didn’t seem too interested in her botched attempt at checking to see if her sister knew the baby name for alpacas, and while Dawn was a little sad that her sister wasn’t her time traveling sis, it was nice to see the continued closeness between the pair despite Riley’s repeat appearance. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. At least Riley had allowed Dawn to express why she was so angry with him for leaving. She’d even gotten a genuine apology out of him and a promise to send her postcards from the field. Dawn mentally shook her head. “I sorta kinda screwed up my toast, and I panicked when no one thought I was funny.”

 

“Oh, Dawn. Everyone sucks at toasts. I just got done telling everyone about the first day I met Xander. Try covering up the stake thing for his side of the family. Anya’s people – they got it, but Xander’s dad started asking why a teenage girl would carry a stake and why that was funny or appropriate.” Buffy’s cheeks flushed. 

 

“He was rather loud and obnoxious,” Spike admitted, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. 

 

“And drunk,” Buffy added. 

 

Dawn shook her head, feeling a little better about her faux pas. “Poor Xander.”

 

“Poor Harris’s mum.” Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Wonder why she puts up with the drunken lout.”

 

“You’re not exactly fun to be around when you drink too much,” Buffy said with just a little sarcasm. 

 

“And how often does that happen exactly?” 

 

Buffy gazed at him thoughtfully. “Just when you’re heartbroken. Or if you take me out to help me forget how badly I’m feeling.” 

 

“This is true,” Dawn said, and then burst out with, “He drank a lot after you died.”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened a little. “Oh.” She squeezed his hand. 

 

“But not when it was my turn to take care of you.” Spike gave Dawn a stern look. “Couldn’t let down my guard then.”

 

Dawn donned a faux dreamy expression, feeling grateful for the distraction from her embarrassment. “That is very true, too. Though you threatened me with devastating bodily injury more than once.”

 

He pointed a finger at her. “Only when you didn’t listen to what I told you to do to stay safe.”

 

“You didn’t listen to what he told you to do? Around more than just driving?” Buffy sounded. . . not shocked at all. 

 

Dawn grinned and started to head back to the reception, abandoning her shelter. “No.”

 

Buffy let go of Spike’s hand and tucked her arm around Dawn’s. “That’s probably a good thing.”

 

“Hey!” Spike protested again. “Wasn’t it just you who assigned me the task of talking with the Bit about the morals ‘round stealing?”

 

“I – that’s a good point,” Buffy relented.

 

Dawn heard the sound of music playing. The band was playing a cover of a song she couldn’t quite identify. Oh good. Music and dancing would make everyone forget her horrible speech. “Let’s go dance!” She bounded forward and then pivoted, backing toward the party. “You two should dance together.”

 

“I don’t know.” Buffy hesitated and looked deflated for the first time that night. “It’s Xander’s night.”

 

Spike put a hand on her arm and then touched her cheek. Dawn saw how much he loved her sister in the way his eyes were shining and in the tilt of his head as he gazed at her. “Oh, love. We’re going to dance. You’ve been glowing all night, and I’ve been looking forward to taking you in my arms and gliding over the dance floor.” 

 

“Glowing in my neon green disco ball dress?” Her sister was pleased with his assessment of her. Dawn could tell.

 

“Despite the bloody dress.” 

 

A piercing scream made the three of them freeze. As the sounds of an all-out brawl overrode the music, the door to the reception slammed open, and Giles stood there with Tara right behind him. 

 

“Giles. What’s going on?” Buffy demanded, already slipping into Slayer mode.

 

Tara scooted around Giles to stand near Dawn as Giles explained, “An older gentleman appeared quite out of the blue and announced that he was Xander from the future here to warn his past self about the perils of marrying Anya.”

 

Dawn’s eyes grew round. Oh no! That’s who that guy was! 

 

“And now everyone’s massacring each other?” Buffy peered around Giles, pulling an ironic stake out of her purse. “Why?”

 

Spike lifted his eyebrow again. “Demons of the sort Anya used to pal around with use any excuse for a little carnage.” 

 

“That and one of them identified the future Xander as a fraud right away. He was actually a demon in disguise,” Tara said softly but with confidence. 

 

“Oh,” Dawn said. She wondered what impact this later appearance from the demon would have on the timeline.

 

“Now Anya and Xander’s sides are fighting and arguing with one another. Probably for the reason that Spike alluded to.” Giles nodded at Spike. “And the groom’s cake is pretty well done for.”

 

“The cake!” Dawn had been looking forward to the chocolate cake even if it was decorated like a battlefield from one of the video games Xander loved. Even Spike had admired it. 

 

“Alright. That’s all I need to know. Thanks.” Buffy exchanged a look with Spike and then bent to rip up the skirt of her confining dress. “Ready?”

 

He gave her a brief nod. “As always, pet.” 

 

“Looks like you’re gonna get a different sort of dance with me.” Buffy’s words made Dawn smile. Her sister had no idea how different this time was turning out to be. 

 

He grinned at her. “Looks like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, some lovely Spuffy...


	27. Chapter Fourteen, Hazards Ahead - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to Badwolfjedi for the beautiful banner for this chapter! Hope that the chapter lives up to its beauty!
> 
> Extra big thank you to amidtheflowers for betaing this chapter (*big hugs*), which I later tweaked even more. New mistakes are all mine.
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying the story! I'll be hopefully catching up on replies soon. Husband was sick this weekend and I didn't have much downtime with the little one.

_Buffy_

When the time travel transition finished, Buffy discovered that her eyes were closed and familiar cool lips were sliding over hers, which left her body in a confusing mass of leftover cinnamon, goosebumps, and such heightened desire that it was all she could do to stop herself from gasping aloud. The whole effect was almost like a high or how she imagined a high would be if she ever did drugs, which she wasn’t planning on. She didn’t need drugs; she only wanted Spike.

 

Said vampire pulled back from her, and she blinked at him as her other senses came back online. She was outside on a breezy night with her back pressed up against soft vines growing over a crypt – probably the Murphy crypt with its tiny fairies carved among the flowers on the door. Spike’s body leaned up against hers, and she could feel how much he wanted her through their clothes. She shivered and longed to free them both of society’s trappings.

 

“You okay, love?” he asked gently, snaking his thumb beneath the waist of her jeans and stroking her hip. 

 

She resisted the urge to give in to all the sensations she knew he brought forth in her. But she had to get her bearings. Only a few minutes ago, she’d been laid up in her bed, getting treatment for deadly demon poison and talking to her ex’s wife about love and not letting Spike go. That was high on Buffy’s list of weirdest conversations ever. “Yeah,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Why?”

 

“Felt something change. Not sure what though.” He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead where it was stuck with sweat. So, this was after patrol. “Is it Mr. Foul-Breath Demon? I can move his heads.”

 

She peered around Spike’s arm and laughed because the rather large lump of a demon body was separated from its two giant heads – one with a gouged eye and one with a lolling tongue. “No, it’s not that.” She sniffed and realized that there was a scent of rotten fish with a hint of something that had been burned. She made a face. “Maybe it’s that. Still can’t believe its breath is that bad. And let’s never speak of the flame-y part again.” 

 

With tenderness, Spike set her on her feet, much to her dismay. She wobbled a bit. He slid his hand down her arm, holding her until she was steady. “Let’s go home.”

 

Home. He called her house his home. Her heart swelled with happiness. She was brought back to cherishing every moment. “Okay.” 

 

Hands going to his hips, he nodded at the crypt. “You get the door? I’ll gather up the heads.”

 

“We’ll dispose of him later?” She suddenly realized that the very dead demon had given her and Spike quite the workout. Her muscles were sore. She rounded the side of the crypt, inspected the door, and managed to open it without breaking it. Easy peasy. 

 

“Tomorrow night,” he agreed, hefting the body inside and then bending to pick up and toss the heads in afterward. 

 

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” She forced the door and lock back into place. Thank god for the well-placed light along the cemetery path, so she could see what she was doing. Somehow nothing looked disturbed. 

 

Spike retrieved her ax and his sword, wiping the excess bodily fluids on the grass under a tree. 

 

She studied him, his easy movements, the way he handled the weapons and cleaned them for her. Such a gentleman when she let him be. God, she loved him and not just for what he gave her. He’d told her that he loved her for how she tried, how she cared and loved. She saw that in him, too. He tried so hard even without his soul. For her. Always for her. 

 

Her stomach did a small flip as a hundred anxious questions tumbled through her mind. What could possibly drive him to obtain a soul in this timeline? Was it needed? What horrible thing would have to happen to push him to seek it? Should she even push for that? Would he find a way to get one if she asked? If she didn’t, he might not die in the hellmouth; she might have him in the future. But what if that meant the world was overrun by Turok-Han? Would Angel be the one to wear the medallion? Or would she? She couldn’t fathom the answers to any of these questions. 

 

Spike’s fingers slid between hers, and he smiled down at her in the moonlight. “Where’d you go?”

 

Buffy blinked. She was getting caught up in her head and not staying in the moment. The moment – this moment – was all she had. All they had. Just like in her own timeline, there were no guarantees. There would be more hazards ahead, but she could only go on what she knew now, and she knew she loved him. She felt it between them like an unspoken connection. She briefly checked in with her past self. Buffy decided that even she was ready. 

 

Buffy grasped Spike’s hand with both of hers and rounded to face him. His blue eyes caught the one bit of light, and she made sure he was meeting her gaze. 

 

His brow furrowed in worry. “What’s wrong, pet?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.” She dove in with the words she’d been holding back for so long out of fear of destroying the timeline or breaking the universe or causing some other possible horrific outcome. She couldn’t wait any longer. The damned universe would just have to correct itself. She took a deep breath and smiled at him, pushing every bit of her feelings into that expression. He had to believe her this time. “I love you.”

 

He stared at her, the lines on his face smoothing out as his eyes widened. He took a step back, and Buffy’s stomach rolled with anxiety. “W-what?”

 

Too late to back out now. She thought he loved her. She thought he did, but the scared, hurt part of her heart stood up and insisted that maybe he didn’t. She swallowed, deciding that she didn’t care if he didn’t say it back because she was owning her truth. “I love you.”

 

“Oh,” he breathed, not letting go of her hand though the distance between them was killing her. 

 

Her past-depressed-self would have been confused and maybe even run away, but she was the same Buffy who’d worked so hard to find a way to defeat the First and was dealing with the ramifications of her choices every day. She’d learned to face each repercussion but not beat herself up about things she couldn’t change. It was hard as hell, but she was doing it. That Buffy could face anything. Even rejection. Maybe because she’d let him in, he now realized that he didn’t feel the same. She could handle that. She held her head high and said, “I wanted you to know, and it’s absolutely okay if you don’t feel the same.” 

 

In a flash, Spike set his jaw in a hard line, tossed aside the weapons, crossed the space between them (which really wasn’t as big as Buffy’s mind was making it), and gathered her up in his arms so tightly that she couldn’t breathe. “What the hell are you going on about? Of course, I love you. God, Buffy, what do you think I’ve been doing with you? Being your best mate? Like Xander?” He held her tighter if that was possible. “I sleep next to you every night. Hold you while you sleep. While I sleep. Never dreamed that would be possible. You trust me with the little Bit. It’s only made me fall for you more. What do you think I am? A monster? Well, I am that. But god. I love you, you crazy bint.” He drew abruptly away again, leaving Buffy a bit dizzy with the back and forth. “You love me?” He sounded so innocent and in awe.

 

“I love you.” More than you’ll ever know. She took a few deep breaths because last time, she’d messed this part up and royally. “And right now, I really need you to make love to me.”

 

“You’re sure?” 

 

“You don’t have to doubt me again.” She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d have to leave her first; he had left her first just like all the others. She shook her head. She had to stay present. 

 

“Where?” He glanced all around them – at the headstones and the crypts and the darkness of the cemetery. “Not here. And the bloody house is full.” 

 

That much was true. Dawn and Giles were both there. Willow was spending many days and nights with Tara, but with everyone worried about Anya, the witches were camping out at the Summers residence. And even beyond that, Anya probably wouldn’t appreciate public displays of affection. Not right now. Xander was still staying away. He didn’t disappear completely like last time, but he was still hurting. 

 

Buffy sniffed at herself. “I think I need a shower.” 

 

Spike chuckled. “Probably could use one, too. Want our first time to be – ”

 

“Second time,” she reminded him and then mentally wanted to kick herself for bringing up last time when she’d been so distraught over her dad seeking custody of Dawn. Buffy shoved the thought of her father away. He didn’t deserve to be in her brain, especially after his latest stunt. 

 

Luckily, Spike ignored her flub, and she could tell he was trying not to show any disappointment. “Home it is.”

 

She pondered. There really was nowhere else. Wait. “The Magic Box.” There was a small shower tucked in the back of the training room. She used it when she worked out and on particularly long patrol nights when she needed a shower and fast. Plus, there was a comfy sofa that Anya had made Xander move out of their apartment when it didn’t match her attempts at décor. 

 

“Alright then.” Spike slipped his palm against hers and clasped their fingers together, depositing a kiss on her forehead. “Magic Box it is.”

 

Buffy patted her pockets as they hurried across the cemetery in the direction of the shop. She’d left her keys at home. “Hope you still have your breaking and entering skills because I don’t have a way to let us in.”

 

Spike smiled at her and lifted her fingers to kiss her knuckles. “They’ll never know we were there.”

 

“Good.” She grinned at him and let go of his hand, darting around the gate and onto the sidewalk. The streets were empty. She spun to face him, jogging backward as she said, “Catch me if you can.” 

 

She giggled as she heard him growl and charge after her. She knew she’d outpace him because she’d left him with the weapons. She full on sprinted away as she leaped over a bench and dodged around a parked car. Happiness coursed through her as he gave chase. Air entered and left her lungs, and her tired muscles strained in a way that felt more than good. She hadn’t felt so alive in a long time. 

 

“Hold up, Slayer!” he called after her.

 

“Hurry up, Spike!” she teased. 

 

Buffy barreled down familiar streets, slowing down only once and acting casual as she saw a drowsy teenaged boy letting his dog out to use the bathroom. Somehow, she stayed just ahead of Spike as he’d emulated her speed upon the dog sighting. The dog only cocked her head at them as she lifted a leg to pee. The stream made a soft pattering noise on the concrete – the only sign that the pup was surprised to see them. 

 

“Good doggie,” Buffy whispered and dashed onward, passing houses and more houses until she rounded the corner into the business district where the Magic Box was located. 

 

Spike was close behind her or so she thought, and as she circled the building into the alley, she halted at the back door. When Spike didn’t appear, she turned to search for him, every sense alert for any sign that he was close. She detected nothing until he flew out of the shadows, catching her in his arms and shoving her against the door. She laughed as the door gave way to their combined force. So much for not making their coming and going unnoticeable. 

 

“Oops,” she said. Her voice echoed louder than she expected in the dark training room. 

 

As if discovering that he now had her in his arms, Spike kissed her – his hunger for her evident with each expert movement of his lips over hers, and she met him with equal ardor, nipping his lower lip in a promise of more. Under his ministrations, her body came alive in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Longer than he’d ever know. When the hand that was caressing her hip rose to enter her pocket in a way that she still held in her mind as a moment filled with sunlight and self-loathing, she squirmed back automatically and fell against a wall of weapons with a loud clatter. 

 

His hands were suddenly gone from her body. The sound and loss of his touch made her blink her eyes open to view him studying her face with tender concern. He wasn’t moving away from her; he was holding the weapons in place so they wouldn’t fall. She smiled at him as the memory from the past dissipated with this new moment in the shadows, and she dove back in, showing him just how okay she was. 

 

That is until she caught a whiff of herself again, and she suddenly wanted the feel of warm water falling all around her and the freshness of soap cleansing her skin. Better still – she wanted Spike there with her. She ducked under his arm, gliding her blouse over her head, kicking off her boots, and wriggling out of her jeans and socks. 

 

Spike didn’t protest, instead flicking on the inlaid lights that lined the ceiling. She kept her eyes on him as she backed toward the shower, unhooking her bra and sliding off her panties. His bright eyes were profound with longing as he drank in her nakedness, and she paused at the entrance to the door that hid the small shower and raised both eyebrows at him. 

 

“Yeah, pet?” His words were casual but deep and low with lust for her. 

 

She gave him a slow lingering once-over, undressing him with her eyes. “You have too many clothes on.” 

 

She’d never seen him move so quickly or seen someone disrobe quite so gracefully. He was naked and close in seconds, his desire for her against her belly. She felt herself flush with her own need, and she fumbled back for the door, managing to open it and slip inside the shower – the tiles cold on her bare feet. Her fingers found and turned on the water so that a stream cascaded all around her from one of those rain-style showerheads she’d had someone install for her. She shivered as Spike joined her in the cool water, and as the liquid warmed, he picked up the bottle of tea tree mint shampoo he now knew that she loved, squirted some into his palm and began lathering it up in her long hair. As he massaged her head, she moaned softly, and he tilted her head up every now and again to kiss her with leisurely slowness. 

 

As he began to rinse her hair, her hand found him, and she grasped him so that he hesitated, letting out a swift breath, and closed his eyes. She slid her hand up and down, putting all the right pressure in the places she remembered that he liked. She was rewarded with a cry of pleasure and felt him hardening more. 

 

He somehow managed to finish her hair, so she reached back with her free hand for the bar of soap – the one that smelled of almonds and not vanilla. She switched tasks, cleaning every inch of his body that she could reach with the soap, passing him the bar, so he could clean her, too. His fingers brushed her breasts, squeezing and massaging her nipples, and she drew a sharp breath; her hands found the space behind his knee that made him hiss. 

 

This continued this back and forth until they were done cleaning, the soap was all washed away, and Buffy was squirming with urgency. She felt like she might implode if he didn’t fill her up and now. She pressed kisses onto his leanly muscled chest, moving up to his collarbone, and he ran his fingertips along her spine, finding that sensitive spot that made her cry out when he massaged it. 

 

With sudden ferocity, he gripped her bottom with both hands and hoisted her up so that her legs went around him, and they crashed against the tiles. Buffy felt them give a little, and then, in a move that belied his swiftness, he entered her slowly until he filled her up completely. Her heart hammering, she sighed with joy, holding fast to his shoulders as he thrust. She briefly nuzzled his neck and kissed his lips tenderly before staying right there with him, her lips close to his, sharing her breath with him until she could stand the slowness no more. It reminded her too much of the alley outside the Doublemeat or the tree in her front lawn. 

 

“Moving out of here,” she whispered, easing off of him. When he looked confused, she kissed him again. “I love you.” Pushing him back, she nudged him back out of the shower. 

 

Water covered the floor because they hadn’t closed the shower door, and by some miracle, he didn’t slip as she pushed him onto the pile of exercise mats near the wall. Then, she climbed atop him, sliding down onto him so that he groaned with a hint of happiness. She rode him fast and hard until they were both crying out together. After an orgasm rolled over her in blinding waves, he flipped her over, thrusting deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around him and held on as he increased the tempo until they both dove over the cliff together. 

 

He throbbed inside her as they rolled over on their sides, clinging to one another in a wet, satiated heap. She snuggled closer, unwilling to leave his arms. 

 

“I love you,” she repeated. She wanted to keep saying it over and over again now that the long self-imposed moratorium on saying the words was broken. Even if he didn’t say them back. 

 

He kissed her nose. “I love you, too, pet. I love you, too.”

 

She started crying then, and hot tears flowed over her cheeks even as she trembled with emotions and the chilliness of the evaporating water. He stiffened, but he relaxed when she stroked his arm. “Don’t mind me,” Buffy whispered. “I’m just so relieved.”

 

His fingers found her sensitive spot and massaged. “Want me to relieve you again?” Maybe he was a tad unsure if he was going there again. In the last timeline, he went there again and again because it was what kept her with him. 

 

She blinked past the pleasure. She did want him to. Relieve her again. But she also wanted the after-sex snuggles she never allowed herself to have with him. “No. I mean, not yet. I just want to be in this moment with you.” 

 

“Oh.” There was Spike’s surprise again, but it was a little less shocked this time. Buffy liked that he was less shocked. Hopefully, all her declarations wouldn’t shock her past self too much.

 

“Can I say it again without being too annoying?” she asked, shoving aside concerns about other Buffy.

 

“Say it as many times as you like. Don’t think it’s going to get old anytime soon. For me, at least.” He slipped out of her and moved to spoon her close. His hand found hers and held it tight. 

 

She cuddled his hand between her breasts. “I love you. And I want to do this again.”

 

“I love you.” He paused for a moment and asked hopefully, “Now?”

 

Buffy closed her eyes and relaxed into him. “After some rest?”

 

Spike sat up then, and she blinked up in fear. “Don’t look so worried. Just getting us a towel. Figured you might be getting cold what with the goosebumps on your arms and all.”

 

Buffy nodded toward a cabinet. “Towels there.” 

 

Spike came back with a towel, and they dried each other off. He’d found the pile of blankets on the old sofa, too, and he handed them to Buffy before striding across the room to close the door and turn off the light. She rolled up one of the blankets as a pillow for them to share and fanned out the other for them to sleep under as he came back to resume their familiar spooning position. 

 

“Get a cat nap in, love,” he whispered into her damp hair, which was likely to be a complete mess later. “Then, we’ll head home.”

 

“Sounds like an incredible plan,” she agreed. Her eyelids drifted closed, and she was over halfway asleep when he spoke again. 

 

“One more time?” She was confused by his question until he added, “I love you, Buffy.”

 

Oh, that was what he meant. She pushed her hips closer against his and hugged his arm again. “I love you, too, Spike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering what Spike did with the weapons, he hid them in the alley. :o) Farrah and I discussed this and deemed it appropriate. 
> 
> Badwolfjedi's artist note: Centre image courtesy of Javajunkie’s Spuffy pack. Also as everyone has read the chapter, they will see I left out the ILY’s as I didn’t want to spoil the surprise and had to focus on the smoochies to distract everyone. Oh darn! ;)


	28. Chapter Fifteen, Truth Matters - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the likes and comments! *big squishy hugs* We appreciate every one of them!
> 
> Special thank you to amidtheflowers for the amazing beta job and making sure that I'm always thinking about continuity...so important!
> 
> This chapter was such fun to write because I love everyone being together even if writing group chapters is tough because it's hard to make everyone have a place in the chapter. There are so many moving parts and a lot of little details packed into this little part. 
> 
> Badwolfjedi's notes: I know I have used the Family quote once before but it felt like it belonged to this chapter as well.

 

_Dawn_

 

“What are we doing again?” Dawn’s arms were hurting, and she was terrified of dropping her load. Too many things had gone wrong tonight. She didn’t want to add to the wrongness.

 

“You’re going to step up when I tell you to,” Spike said, unable to hide his impatience. 

 

Dawn pouted, but it was a fairly useless expression because Spike couldn’t see her around their load. “Why did I get stuck with walking backward?”

 

“Because I have keen vampire vision, which will prevent you from stumbling in the dark.” She could picture him lifting both eyebrows and looking very earnest. . . and maybe a tad irritated.

 

Dawn took another hesitant step back, too afraid to turn her head to look where she was going. She thought she detected the light from the kitchen in her peripheral vision. “Hmph. I’d be much less likely to stumble if I was facing forward.”

 

“Step up, pigeon!” Spike practically shouted. 

 

Just as Dawn was raising a shaky foot and trying hard not to tip what she and Spike were carrying, Buffy breezed by in her torn but somehow not dirty dress, scooting sideways with her arms full of packages, some of which looked a lot worse for the wear. “’Scuse me,” she said with way too much perkiness for the current situation.

 

“Buffy!” Spike growled.

 

“Buffy!” Dawn cried.

 

The cake tipped sideways, and Dawn shrieked loud enough to wake the neighbors. She and Spike overcompensated for gravity and swung too far the other direction. The four-tiered white monstrosity was doomed to have a deadly meeting with Mr. Lawn until Buffy darted back outside and put a third steadying pair of hands underneath. 

 

Dawn and Spike let out a collective sigh of relief. 

 

“What are you two worried about? We got this.” Despite Buffy’s bright words, Dawn caught the exhaustion in her eyes. Her sister still wasn’t physically a hundred percent since the baby Suvolte bite. 

 

“Let’s just get this bloody thing inside before further disaster.” Spike nudged Dawn’s foot with his own. “Go on.”

 

“O-okay.” With the extra help, Dawn felt safe enough to glance over her left shoulder, finding the next steps up. As they made it to the back door, air conditioning swirled around her, and she fought off a shiver. 

 

They backed the cake in slowly, and Buffy let go once they were inside and the door was closed. 

 

“Hold on,” she said, hurrying around the kitchen island where she’d tossed all the gifts. 

 

“Hurry up, pet.” 

 

“Hurrying.” Buffy scrambled to remove the gifts, setting them gently on the floor. 

 

Dawn wondered if Anya and Xander would even open any of the presents after tonight. Dawn bit her lip in concentration as she and Spike eased the bride’s cake onto a firm surface. 

 

There was a second collective sigh of relief (only with Buffy included this time) when they all stepped back to survey their successful cake move. Dawn still had no idea how the thing had survived the car ride with Spike driving. He had a bit of a lead foot. 

 

“Hey, all,” came Willow’s voice from the back door. Her scarlet hair was askew from the wind or the skirmish, and she was loaded down with wedding presents. 

 

Buffy and Spike rushed to relieve her of her burden as Tara entered behind Willow. The blonde witch had fewer gifts, but Dawn offered her help anyway. 

 

“Where should we put them?” Dawn asked, adjusting a particularly big box so that it was braced against her body. 

 

“Dining table?” Buffy suggested. 

 

Once the presents were all lined up, they all stepped back to survey their work. Dawn noticed that everyone looked pleased except for Willow. The redhead had changed out of her neon green dress and into some jeans and a blouse. Her hands hung awkwardly in her back pockets, and she had that expression on her face that always indicated how anxious she was. Dawn had seen it a lot that year when she wasn’t ignoring the witch because she was angry with her.

 

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked, obviously noticing, too.

 

Tara stepped forward and rubbed a soothing hand on Willow’s arm. Willow smiled at her with gratitude.

 

“I-it’s nothing,” Willow said, trying on a braver face.

 

“It’s not nothing,” Dawn piped up. 

 

“I’ve never seen Xander so upset. Not even when his parents destroyed his Christmas presents that one year,” Willow admitted, but Dawn (and apparently everyone else) knew there was more to it. “I hate that. He was so excited and happy. So in love. And now his wedding reception’s been wrecked with all the fighting and his mom getting hurt for once not by his dad, and with that demon guy showing up on top of everything else, Xander’s a mess.” 

 

“And Anya, too,” Tara added with sadness in her eyes. “She looked devastated, too.”

 

“Which is why we’re moving the party here. With just us. We’ll have cake and play some music. Dance. I have my CD collection upstairs. And Giles is bringing what’s left of the decorations.” Dawn could tell that Buffy was trying to sound hopeful and bright. 

 

“Yeah,” Willow said dejectedly. 

 

“They’ll figure it out. They always do.” Buffy’s determination felt a little forced. 

 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting out of this dress.” Dawn plucked at her dress. The polyester was hot and starting to become kind of itchy. 

 

Tara nodded. “Yeah. Willow had the right idea.” 

 

The corner of Willow’s mouth lifted at Tara’s obvious attempt to cheer her up. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait here for Giles and help set up.”

 

Spike stood up from where he was leaning against the wall and uncrossed his arms. “Could stand to get rid of the monkey suit.”

 

Buffy smiled at him, looking him up and down. “But you look so handsome. And you promised me a dance.”

 

He tilted his head as he stared at her with obvious love. “At least the jacket and tie then.” 

 

“Fine.” She patted her hair self-consciously. “My hair’s a mess from the fight, and I definitely want out of this dress.”

 

Spike didn’t say a word and just lifted an amused eyebrow at her. 

 

That gesture complete, everyone dispersed to change clothes. In her room, Dawn wiggled out of the skintight bridesmaid dress and slipped into a comfortable skirt and blouse but most definitely not the one from Buffy’s birthday. Instead of sandals, Dawn opted for cozy slippers for her feet and ran a brush through her hair. Something crashed in Buffy’s room followed by a giggle, and as Dawn hurried down the stairs, she decided that the giggle was a good thing. 

 

Urgent voices met her as she was halfway to the first floor, and she hesitated. Should she announce her presence or listen for a minute to help decide whether she should head back upstairs. 

 

“ – just don’t know, Giles. I think I need more help to figure this whole magic thing out.” That was Willow, and her voice had an edge of sadness and a little fear. 

 

Giles had arrived and sounded tired. “You seem to be handling things unbelievably well on the magic front.” 

 

“Y-yeah. But tonight? With how things went down with Xander? It took everything in me not flay that faux-Xander demon alive.” Dawn shivered at Willow’s words; she had flayed someone alive – Warren but not in this timeline. Not yet.

 

“You’re quite serious.” 

 

Dawn guessed that Willow had nodded. “Between what I did to Buffy a-and what happened with Dawn and what happened between me and Tara. And tonight. I-I’m a hundred percent serious. I’m scared, Giles. I don’t want to cause any more bad things to happen.” Willow paused. “Especially what happened with Buffy.” Her voice was much smaller on that last part.

 

“You still haven’t talked with her.” Giles was being kind. 

 

Willow’s stated, “No,” was softer still.

 

“How about this. You talk with Buffy, and I’ll see what I can do to find you some help with the magic.” 

 

“You’re bribing me?” There was a tinge of anger.

 

Giles’s response was quick. “No, I’m encouraging you. Mending fences is. . . important. You can’t beat yourself up forever, and talking with Buffy will help her heal, too.”

 

Before she could hear Willow’s reply, someone touched Dawn’s lower back, and she nearly jumped out of her skin until she turned to see Spike had joined her on the stairs without making a sound. True to his word, he still wore the white button down shirt sans tie and black dress pants. Buffy would be pleased.

 

“Spying, are we?” he whispered, his words barely audible. There was amusement in his blue eyes.

 

Dawn smiled and shrugged a shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the CDs in Spike’s hand, and she nodded at them. “Music?”

 

“Couple of mixes your sis made for dancing.” 

 

Dawn started to head down, making sure that her steps were loud. “You don’t know what you’re in for.”

 

Spike scoffed teasingly. “I know very well that Buffy and I have different tastes in music.” 

 

“It’s one thing to know. Another to experience.” Dawn snatched the CDs from his hand and ran to put them in the stereo. “Hi, Giles,” she said as she darted past him and a startled Willow. 

 

“Rupert. Red,” Spike said genially. “Need help with the décor?” 

 

“As a matter of fact, I. . . we do,” Giles replied.

 

Dawn slid the first cd into the stereo and pushed play. The first notes of a song by Dido filled the room. Dawn didn’t bother trying to remember the name of the song, and when she turned back toward her family, she saw her sister descending the stairs. Buffy had changed into a black leather skirt and billowy white blouse with chunky black heels. Her hair was down in shiny golden waves, and she looked so much the opposite of when she’d descended the stairs after coming back from heaven. This time, her green eyes were bright and alive and full of so much feeling for Spike. She and the vampire had locked eyes, and Dawn foresaw her sister moving into his arms before it happened. 

 

Tara came down shortly after, and Dawn flopped on a chair to watch everyone. Tara stroked the back of her fingers over Willow’s pale cheek, smiling at her with such tenderness that Dawn almost started crying. Soon, they too were dancing close, swaying to the even beat of the song. 

 

Giles appeared next to Dawn, saying quietly, “It appears that you might need a dance partner.” 

 

Dawn’s heart swelled with love for the man who was every bit of the father that her biological father was not. She offered her hand in response, and though Giles pulled her into a slightly stiff embrace, his movements were smooth. She gave him a brief hug, laying her head on his chest. When she drew back, he relaxed into the beat, and she had this really weird hope that someday, he’d walk her down the aisle at her own wedding. Getting married wasn’t something she thought about very often, even as a young adult. Dawn’s short life had been so chaotic that she hadn’t really thought about her future, probably kind of like Buffy in a way, but when Dawn did let herself think about it, her made-family definitely featured with prominence. She meant what she’d said to Hallie about family.

 

The phone rang as the song faded away. Dawn was closest. Buffy’s head lifted from where she was snuggled up against Spike as they danced. Dawn met her eyes. “I got it.”

 

Before Dawn even answered, she assumed it would be Anya or Xander. “Hello?”

 

“I have news,” Jonathan’s familiar voice said over the line – his voice hushed and almost too quiet.

 

“Jonathan?” Dawn’s eyes widened, which made Buffy break away from Spike and stand close by with her arms crossed. 

 

The next song came on with its upbeat tempo, and someone turned it down. 

 

“Yeah. It’s me.”

 

“What’s the news?” 

 

Buffy waved at Dawn, motioning to take the handset. Dawn sighed and handed her the phone. “Jonathan? It’s Buffy. What news?” Buffy was silent for several seconds as everyone crowded around with curious expressions. “Warren’s been arrested?”

 

Dawn let out a breath. That was seriously the best news she’d had in a long time and very different from last time. She glanced at Willow and Tara, who were exchanging grins. 

 

“Glad he’s being held without bail, and I one hundred percent agree with you about laying low,” Buffy commented after listening to Jonathan speak some more. “Thank you for letting us know. We’re here if you need anything. Do you have a number we can call you on?”

 

Giles hurried and retrieved the note pad and pen from beside the phone station. Buffy took them and scribbled down a phone number. Dawn vaguely wished they had cell phones. They made life so much easier. 

 

Buffy hung up and addressed everyone with a grin of her own. “Warren’s been arrested on a murder charge. No bail.”

 

“Excellent news.” Giles returned her smile. 

 

“Jonathan is in Colorado, and he said Tucker’s brother went to Mexico.” Buffy paused for half a second. “Jonathan also wanted to make sure we got rid of all the cameras just in case Tucker’s brother decided to tap into the feeds again.”

 

The cameras had been in the same places as in the other timeline: Buffy’s yard, Xander’s work site, the Magic Box, the university, and several other places around town. Buffy had let Willow and Spike take care of them all. There were bad memories associated with those cameras. 

 

“Every one,” Willow said with pride, lifting her chin. 

 

“That’s really, really good news,” Tara said, hugging Willow’s arm. “We needed that news.”

 

“We did.” Spike held out his hand to Buffy. He tilted his head back toward the living room where a more upbeat song was playing. “Fancy another dance to celebrate?”

 

Buffy’s face lit up, but before she could take him up on his offer, the phone she was holding rang. She frowned. “Jonathan again?” 

 

“Maybe it’s Xander or Anya,” Dawn suggested. The newly-married couple was taking a long time to get there.

 

Buffy answered the phone. “Hello?” Her buoyancy quickly gave way to a sheen of tears in her eyes. Spike moved closer and touched her arm. Buffy blinked, coming back to herself as she focused on Dawn. “Dad.” 

 

“Dad?” Dawn mouthed at Buffy. What the heck was even happening with this day? 

 

Buffy covered up the bottom part of the phone. “Go get the other phone. Dad wants to talk with us.”

 

“Now?” Dawn’s heart sank in her chest. Hadn’t Halfrek taken care of her dad? Why today of all days? Dawn really didn’t want to talk to her father. Not today. Not ever again. Mostly because she was scared. And angry and hurt. And scared. Her eyes rounded. “Come with me?”

 

Buffy studied her sister and then saw that everyone else was staring at them. She held the phone against her belly and grabbed Dawn’s hand. “Upstairs. We’re going upstairs.”

 

Dawn blinked. “O-okay.” 

 

Buffy exchanged a look with Spike and dragged Dawn up the stairs like they were storming the gates of Normandy. Or a Black Friday sale at the mall. Definitely never for a conversation with their dad.

 

They headed into Buffy’s room, and Dawn caught the spare phone Buffy tossed her. Together, they plunked down on the unmade bed. Dawn glanced around the room, her eyes taking in the pile of fresh clothing folded on Buffy’s dresser. Spike’s black clothing was intermingled with her sister’s brightly-colored blouses and yoga pants that she liked to wear at home. There were also a couple of books that Dawn recognized from Spike’s crypt. He was really part of the family; Dawn’s heart felt warm.

 

Another task at hand, Dawn pushed her thigh up against Buffy’s and turned on the phone. Dawn couldn’t bring herself to say a word.

 

“We’re both here, Dad,” Buffy said, her voice a little hardened.

 

“My girls!” their father exclaimed as if he hadn’t tried to drag them to court without even talking with them. 

 

His exuberance pushed Dawn to spit out, “What do you want?” 

 

“I can’t call to check on my daughters?” Hank had the gall to sound very wounded.

 

“Actually, since you almost took us to court to get custody of Dawn, you can’t,” Buffy said evenly. 

 

“I called it off. It’s off. Buffy, you’re doing a great job raising Dawn since your mother died, and – ”

 

“You really have no idea how much it affected us, do you?” Buffy interrupted.

 

“I’m Dawn’s father. She’s a minor. Her mother passed away, and as her biological parent, I have a right to want to have my daughter under my roof.” Hank was matching Buffy’s steel. 

 

“But I’m happy here. In Sunnydale with Buffy,” Dawn insisted, her hand finding Buffy’s to hold. “You could have asked me what I wanted instead of taking us to court.”

 

Hank sighed. “Listen. I know I haven’t been the best parent, and I’m the first to admit that I leaned on your mom to take care of you girls more than I should have. But I do love you and want to be in your life, even if you don’t want me there.” 

 

He sounded reasonable, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t at all. “That’s right. You haven’t been here,” Dawn said. Her eyes filled with unbidden tears. Damn it. She blinked them away. He didn’t deserve to have tears shed over him. 

 

“And that’s why I wanted to take custody of you, Dawnie. And that’s why I backed off when I heard that you didn’t want to leave your sister. I’m trying to be the bigger person here. To sacrifice my own desires as a parent to give you what you feel like you need. Do you even know what it’s like to not get to see your child grow up?” Hank was digging himself a massive hole that Dawn wanted to shove him in. 

 

Dawn looped her arm around her sister’s and hugged her. “You don’t know the first thing about sacrifice. It’s what Mom did for me and for Buffy. It’s what Buffy does for me.” Dawn exchanged a look with her sister. “Every single day.” 

 

“And I appreciate that,” Hank said. “I appreciate that my eldest daughter is so self-sacrificing. I just want you to see what I’ve given up, too.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Dad, you haven’t really given up anything that you’ve wanted.” 

 

“I want to mend fences. And I think you should both consider selling that monstrosity of a house you have there in Sunnydale and move to L.A. It’d be nice if you were closer.” 

 

“Dad,” Buffy repeated. “I don’t know how to tell you this so you’ll hear. But Dawn and I? We’re happy here. We don’t want to move. I have a job here, and Dawn has school and friends.”

 

“We have family here,” Dawn added.

 

Hank let out a discontented sigh – the kind that always came out of his mouth when he was disappointed that they weren’t understanding him. “Are you talking about those friends of yours? They aren’t relatives.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if they’re blood-related. They’re family,” Buffy insisted, gripping the phone almost too hard. 

 

Hank circled back around, his voice softer. “I hope you appreciate what I’ve done for you, and I think, over time, you’ll realize that resenting me doesn’t solve anything. Buffy, I’m proud of you for how you’re taking care of your sister. I didn’t know you had a job. I hope you’re going to college, too, because minimum wage jobs don’t pay the bills. And Dawn, a copy of your report card still comes here. Good job on your ‘A’ in math.”

 

Dawn wished she knew what her grades were because she was pretty sure she was somehow messing up her past self’s report card with every time jump.

 

A loud bang resounded downstairs, and Anya’s distressed voice carried upstairs. “Where’s Xander?”

 

Buffy and Dawn sat up straighter and glanced at one another. Oh no.

 

“Dad, we have to go.” Buffy’s body was tense with the need to get away from this situation to tend to another. 

 

“Talk later then. Think about what I’m suggesting.” Hank was nothing if not good at hammering home his point.

 

“Uh huh. Bye.” Buffy clicked off the phone, and Dawn followed suit without bothering to say farewell.

 

“Let’s go,” Dawn said, hopping up with determination and straightening her skirt. 

 

Buffy nodded, her eyes flashing. “Let’s go check on our family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, a Spike and Buffy morning-after conversation...


	29. Chapter Fifteen, Truth Matters - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I told myself that because I wrote a chapter this weekend and if I could reply to all the wonderful comments, I'd post the next chapter this evening. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special thank you to amidtheflowers for all her encouragement and for betaing this chapter. She helped a lot with some key turns of phrase!
> 
> Badwolfjedi's mood board is a beautiful companion board to the one from the last Buffy chapter!
> 
> Artist notes: I have been saving the “demons” quote for a while and knew this was the chapter for it. Also had to include this particular Keats poem as Spike likes Keats, right? (That’s canon I'm sure, and if not, OYB made it so for me in ADKoH.) Hope it all works for you!

_Buffy_

“You awake, love?” came the soft voice in her ear. 

 

“I am.” Buffy snuggled up to Spike, his body warm from her borrowed heat, and sighed with happiness. She hadn’t felt this content in a long time. “What time is it?”

 

“Still dark out. Lots of time until Rupert’s Scooby meeting. You sleep well?”

 

Buffy yawned. “I did. You didn’t sleep?” 

 

“I slept but woke early. Wanted to cherish this moment a bit longer.”

 

“Oh.” She turned over on the pile of mats, which were surprisingly comfortable. Spike was propped up on one elbow, watching her like a cat that was lazily half-aware. She tucked her hand against his face and pulled him down for a brief kiss. She wanted to cherish this, too. 

 

“Was it a dream?” he asked as if it could disappear, as if she might disappear. He eased down, so she could lay her head on his chest.

 

Though she was wondering the same thing, she shook her head. “Nope. Not a dream.” She remembered how they’d been with one another in the previous timeline and how hard she’d cultivated their relationship in this one. The difference was striking for them both. 

 

“You still love me?” He was trying hard to stay easy and calm, but she knew his feelings were a tumble under the surface. 

 

Her heart clenched at his words. She’d been there in the past, too. It was easy to reassure him, to ease his trace of insecurity. “Of course, I do. I love you still.” I’ve loved you longer than I can say. 

 

“Why do you love me?” He was a little more confident now. 

 

Buffy traced a finger over his bare chest. “I thought you said love wasn’t brains and logic.”

 

“You remember that?” She could tell he was amused.

 

She loved the feel of his skin on hers. She didn’t want him to ever move. “Of course. It made me break up with Angel.”

 

Spike snorted softly. “Oh, good then.” 

 

Buffy knew she couldn’t avoid his question. “You’re asking me why? She who sucks at putting words together.” 

 

“Regarding your feelings, yes, but not anything else.” Spike stroked her hip. 

 

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “Let me try.”

 

He hugged her in return. “All right. I’m a patient man.” Past-her would have been quick to point out how not-a-man he was, but not anymore. As a vampire, he was more than a man and also had a very human heart.

 

She decided to start there – at a beginning of sorts. “I’ll be the first to admit that I had some pretty strong biases against vampires. Slaying vampires is my job and all.”

 

“True. If it helps, I made it my mission to kill your kind. It was a challenge of sorts. Two before you and tried with you, too.” He knew she knew, but he was reminding her that she wasn’t alone in the craziness of going against her nature. “And biases aren’t necessarily a bad thing. We all categorize things. It’s how we make sense of the world.”

 

“And I suppose between you and Clem and Max and all the customers at work with a few notable exceptions, my world view has shifted a little.”

 

“A lot from the girl I met shortly before the Feast of St. Vigeous.” 

 

“I hope I’ve changed. I was sixteen.”

 

“Still the strongest lady I’ve met.” Spike ran his fingers through her hair, which made her shiver. 

 

“I wasn’t strong then. I had no idea what was coming.”

 

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

 

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short either. What vampire asks for help from the good guys when he’s hurt and in danger of starving?”

 

“To be fair, no one would take in a broken vampire, who couldn’t kill.” He sounded confident, but Buffy knew that losing his ability to hunt left him bereft until he figured out he could fight demons without excruciating, skull-splitting pain. 

 

“You still reached out. The point being that I love how you attached to my family – my mom and sister – right away. How you showed them respect and kindness even when I expected the worst from you.” She paused but then rattled on. “I trust you. Trust is so important to me.” Buffy’s eyes sheened with tears, which he must have smelled because he kissed the top of her head. 

 

“Makes sense, love. Too many people you’ve trusted have hurt you.”

 

“And despite all the things you’ve said and done in the name of being a vampire, that fundamental trust remains.” She remembered what happened in her bathroom before he left Sunnydale and how she’d said she could never love him. That wasn’t true. She’d felt so betrayed in that moment. Despite all his bravado and angry words and their confusing communication (or lack thereof) in their physical relationship, she’d trusted that he wouldn’t cross that line. And the other Spike had. But this Spike had never done that. Her relationship with Spike was different this time. In word and deed. “I trust you with my friends and family.” 

 

“Trust is important in any relationship. Is that all?” He sounded a little hurt. 

 

She paused to kiss his chest, splaying her fingers over the place she’d kissed. “I trust you with my heart. To respect the boundaries I put up and need. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count at this point. I saw the way you treated my sister and mom. I experience the way you treat me and Dawn now. You talked a big game like you don’t, but you really care so much. I love that about you. And just like you told me that I could be myself around you, I want you to be comfortable being yourself around me.”

 

“Drinking blood and having lust for the kill?” He was half-teasing, half-testing her.

 

“I’ve got that, too.” She paused and realized what she’d just said, clarifying with, “The lust for the kill part. Not the drinking blood part. In case that wasn’t obvious.” By now, she was used to him sipping blood from a mug while she and Dawn ate meals. There was a reason he was assigned two blood mugs though. Blood tended to stain the ceramic and took some scrubbing to get clean. 

 

Buffy’s next words seemingly came out of nowhere. “And just like you’d kill for me? I’d kill for you.” She meant it, too, more than he knew. She just wished she understood why he hadn’t come for her when he popped out of the amulet in L.A. 

 

Buffy felt Spike’s muscles tense in surprise. When Buffy slung a leg up over his hips, he grasped her thigh and said, “God, pet, what have I done to deserve you?” 

 

Buffy sighed. “I could ask the same question only in reverse.”

 

“But you’re bloody perfect.” Spike sounded like a hopeless romantic, but she knew he wasn’t – not with her. Not in the way she and Angel had been in their star-crossed angsty-ness. She knew she didn’t want that, and she knew she was far from perfect. 

 

“I’m not. I’m really, really not.” She lifted her head and made sure he was making eye contact with her as she said, “And I hope you call me out when I’m not.”

 

He grinned at her. “The same way you’ll call me out.” She knew what he was asking for – communication and truth in their relationship. The truth part was easy; they’d always been brutally honest with each other. The communication part was harder.

 

“The same,” Buffy agreed. 

 

They were quiet for several seconds, and Buffy almost fell asleep again. 

 

“Buffy?” Spike’s easygoing query made jerk a little. He held her closer in response. “How’re you really doing? Since Red did her spell to bring you back. You haven’t really talked about it of late.”

 

Buffy checked in with her past self; she really didn’t talk about it in the past, present, or future. She decided honesty on that end would be important for her other self. . . and for Spike. “If you’re asking me if I miss being at peace, the answer is yes.” It felt strange to say that out loud. It wasn’t something she’d allowed herself before; being happy was the easier choice, but the happiness wasn’t completely real. And she’d just promised to be honest. “But if you’re asking me if I’m glad to be alive, the answer is also yes. I can’t imagine not being here.” That statement carried a layer of meaning that Spike would never know. 

 

Spike waited a moment, stroking light fingers over her back. Then, he said, “I don’t expect you’ll ever not miss being in heaven.” 

 

A tear slid slowly down Buffy’s cheek; she hadn’t known that she needed to hear what Spike had just said. “Thank you for getting that.” 

 

Spike took a deep breath. “I miss being human sometimes.” This admission surprised Buffy, but he continued almost immediately. “But I wouldn’t want to be human again.”

 

Buffy followed him down his line of thinking. “You’ve been a vampire for longer than you’ve been human. It’s not who you are anymore.”

 

“Right.” His next words sounded contemplative like he hadn’t really thought about the idea before. “As a human, there was something to knowing life was finite. To knowing right from wrong and the lines of society that shouldn’t be crossed. Becoming a vampire meant that time was infinite, that the lines didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter what I did, there was always more time.”

 

Buffy’s stomach sank. “And now that you’re with me, you have all the lines again. You’re. . . limited.” 

 

“What?” Spike sounded shocked. 

 

“You have to pay attention to lines and rules and – and I died.” The tears that came now were hot and fast. She wasn’t expecting that, but no amount of will sent them away. She swiped at them with her hand, feeling more than a little foolish. Her voice somehow didn’t crack when she added, “And I’ll die again.” She didn’t realize how afraid she was of this until she said the words aloud. What did it mean that she was mortal? She knew her death was inevitable and even more so since she was a Slayer. But what did it mean to Spike? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

 

“Hey now,” he said, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap so that they were face-to-face. He smoothed her tumble of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on her neck near her pulse point. His blue eyes kept trying to find hers, and he waited for her to make eye contact. “I know what I’m signing up for by being with you. By being around your friends and your Watcher. I know your death is inevitable. You’re human. You’re a Slayer. You’re the Slayer. I lost you once before; I’ll lose you again, but it doesn’t mean I want to be away from you. Protecting yourself from the pain that inevitably comes with love is – ”

 

“Lonely.” She’d been lonely for so long, and he had stayed away from her. Her heart pounded in her ears. What did that mean? 

 

He looked like he wanted to say something else but settled on, “Right.” 

 

“And the rules that you have to follow to be with me?”

 

“I’ll follow because it lets me be with you. Been following them. Will continue.” His words were a promise. She could tell. 

 

“Even if it goes against your nature?” 

 

“Even if. Apparently, the sodding chip has my behavior shaped pretty well. Eating living things is associated with pain. I’m not a complete masochist.”

 

“Just a little one?” She reached for his hand then. “You totally got off on me punching you in the nose all those times.”

 

He chuckled. “Just a little one.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Always have been.”

 

Buffy knew they were getting around to the soul talk, and she honestly didn’t know what she should do. He needed his soul to save the world, to not completely disrupt the timeline, but she didn’t want to push anything. She wouldn’t wish the pain he and Angel went through on anyone, but she also didn’t want to be responsible for blowing up the universe either. If Spike didn’t get his soul, would the universe assert itself and do something horrible? Was the soul necessary? “Speaking of Giles and my friends. And your friends. I’d say we’re officially official. How should we handle this with them? Dawn is no big because she adores you.” 

 

“In my current situation, I have one friend. Clem. And there’s no issue there.”

 

“Oh. Then, my friends and loved ones.”

 

“You know what I’d do.” He lifted both eyebrows and smirked.

 

Buffy bonked him in the arm. “Aside from lots of public PDA and having me declare my love for you, how should we handle it?” 

 

“Have them walk in on us right now?” He dove in for a kiss and tweaked her nipple so that she shivered. 

 

“I’m being serious.” He pouted, so she kissed him tenderly before saying, “Serious. I love you, and this is serious.”

 

“I think they already know, pet.”

 

“Sometimes they live in denial land. Like me.” 

 

He gave her a half-smile. “You’re not alone there. I was in denial about loving you even when Dru pointed it out.” 

 

Buffy didn’t want to talk about Dru, so she simply returned his smile. “And now you’re not.”

 

“And now I’m not.” His blue eyes shone with such happiness that she hated bringing up the next part. 

 

But Buffy had to. “The person that will hate this the most is Xander. And maybe Anya because she’s a mess right now.”

 

Settling his hands on her hips, Spike followed her lead as he did nowadays. “Anya will see us as potential vengeance fodder down the line. She’ll see the silver lining. Rupert is coming round to me. Doesn’t trust me, but I’ll give him that.”

 

Buffy bit her lip. “Tara is totally okay with us, and I know Willow. She always wants to see me happy in love.”

 

“That leaves Harris.” 

 

“Yeah.” Her shoulders rounded a little.

 

“The biggest hindrance there is my lack of a soul.” And there it was. Spike said it. 

 

“It’s because of Angel.” Buffy thought for a moment. “And Jesse.”

 

“Know Angel. He always bollixes everything up, but who’s Jesse?”

“Jesse is. . . was Xander’s best friend when I came to Sunnydale. He got captured by the Master’s vampires and turned pretty much right away. I think seeing his friend with a cruel demon driving him really messed Xander up.”

 

“For good reason.” Buffy felt Spike shudder almost imperceptibly, and she surmised it was tied to the Master. “Though there are gradations among vampires because each one is an individual, the good majority relish the depravity.”

 

“Gradations?”

 

“I’m trying to think of a good example.” Spike shifted then so that he could lean against the wall, and Buffy moved with him, resting her back against him and pulling the blanket up because now she was getting a little cold. Spike’s voice was near her ear then. “There was this bloke that Dru turned. Can’t remember his name, but she wanted him for his knowledge. He was an anxious and sensitive man and an equally anxious and sensitive vampire. The Judge said he had too much humanity in him. Burned him up on the spot.”

 

“So the gradations are levels of humanity? That must mean. . .” 

 

“Angelus has the least amount of humanity in him. Of any vampire I’ve ever encountered.” Spike was firm on this.

 

“Oh.” Buffy picked up Spike’s hand, cradling it over her belly. “And that means you have more.”

 

He sighed, and she wasn’t sure if he thought this was a weakness. “Always have.”

 

She slipped her fingers between his. “That’s not a bad thing.” 

 

“To you, maybe.” He paused and then added, “And to me, too, I suppose. Now. It allowed me to love Dru. . . to love you. But for a long time, I thought it made me fallible.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“It’s what Angelus taught me.” Spike rubbed his thumb over her bellybutton. 

 

“Oh.” That made a lot of sense in Buffy’s mind. “Don’t lose the tender underbelly. Promise me.”

 

He nuzzled her ear. “When it comes to you and your sis, I won’t.” 

 

“And anyone else? If something happens to us?” 

 

“Don’t care about the others." Buffy knew this wasn't true. "And if something happens to you or the Bit? I don’t know what I’d do next.” He was firm about this, too. Buffy didn’t know what to make of that. “If you’re asking what I’d do if you were both gone and if I had this chip out of my head, the killing would be as natural as breathing. But I don’t think I’d swing the other way. Killing and maiming anyone and everyone for fun. Being with you lot changed me. Same way being with Angelus. . . and being with Dru did. Same way growing up with my mum did.” 

 

Buffy rolled these thoughts around in her brain. She didn’t know how she felt about Spike going back to killing. He had under the influence of the First but that was out of his control. She hadn’t wanted to kill him then even though he’d begged for it. She still meant every word of what she said to him then about him facing the monster within and fighting back. She believed in this version of Spike just as much as the last version, or she wouldn’t be where she was now. But still, she had to know about the soul because he’d fought for it before and had used it to save the world. She wasn’t sure where to go next in the conversation, so she went with her heart. . . the way she’d lost the ability to do somewhere along the way, the way she was figuring out how to do again. “I’m glad you’ve changed.” 

 

“Me, too, pet. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

 

“No do-overs?” This whole journey was her do-over, and despite the confusing crisscrossing of past, present, and future, she felt stable and right with him in the now. 

 

“No do-overs,” he echoed. 

 

“I know we’re talking about Xander and his bias about being soul-having.” She hated the next words before she even said them. “Can you ever envision circumstances when you’d go looking for your soul? Is that even possible?” 

 

Spike’s hand froze where it was moving on her skin, and she felt his body go rigid. “What’re you asking, pet? Do you know what having a soul would do to me?” 

 

Buffy held her breath as he spoke, deciding. . . hoping that it was a good sign that he hadn’t completely shoved her away. “W-what would it do?” 

 

“I’m assuming my grandsire told you what it did to him when he was cursed with the bloody thing.” Spike’s words were tight. 

 

She nodded, but her irritation showed through in her words. Spike knew what she went through with Angelus. “I saw what it did to him. When he lost it and had it returned.” 

 

“Well, then, you’d know that I wouldn’t wish a soul on my worst enemy.” There was an edge of hurt and anger in Spike’s voice again. “Not even bloody Angelus.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy read the underneath message – the thing he wasn’t saying. Turning back to face him, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder with her forehead against his cool neck. “I love you how you are now. You know that, right?” And she did. Setting aside all that had happened in the past, she and Spike had built more in the last few months than they ever had before. 

 

“I do now.” She felt him let out a rush of air as he relaxed. “We’ll deal with Harris together?” Spike was asking if she’d stand up for him if Xander protested their relationship.

 

“Duh. I’m in this with you.” She put a hand over the place where his heart didn’t beat, didn’t pump blood through his veins. She wanted to protect him from what was to come. 

 

He smiled at the gesture, covering her hand with his, and said, “You know I’d do it if you needed me to.”

 

“What?”

 

“Hunt down my soul. Have it stuffed back inside no matter the pain.” There was a hint of stubborn defiance in the set of his shoulders and in his tone. 

 

Because she didn’t know what to say to this given what she knew about the future (her past), she answered his admission by bringing her lips to his before breaking away and whispering, “I’m ready.” 

 

He kissed her in return. “Ready for what, love?”

 

The naked thing was really convenient. She shifted and found the evidence of his increasing arousal, which made her let out a small whimper. “For more relief.” 

 

His smile transformed into a grin. “You are, are you?” 

 

The deep richness of his voice drew her eyes up to his where she saw that they were dark with desire. “Uh huh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we're back with Dawn and will find out why Anya's so upset... 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	30. Chapter Sixteen, What's to Come - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the likes and wonderful comments for our little collaborative story-venture! 
> 
> We're getting close to the end of season six...so heads up!
> 
> Special thank you to dear amidtheflowers for her lovely beta work and help with turns of phrase or phrase turning...definitely turns of phrase. Something like that... :o)
> 
> I love badwolfjedi's mood board here, too. She captured the emotion perfectly!

_Dawn_

Dawn was still reeling a bit from her unexpected conversation with her dad, and suddenly, she and Buffy tumbled downstairs to find Anya with red cheeks – her makeup smeared from crying. She stripped the veil from her curls, and the gauzy fabric fell against the satin of her dress. Dawn had never seen her look so hopeless. Gone was the confident, unrufflable, hopeful Anya of earlier that day. 

 

“He’s not here yet,” Tara said, reaching out to stroke Anya’s arm. “But we’re glad you are.”

 

“Where is he?” Anya tried to peer past Giles and Spike into the living room. They glanced at one another and almost simultaneously stepped to aside, so she could have a better vantage point. “Xander said he was coming here.” 

 

“I-is he worried about his mom?” Willow asked. An ambulance had come to take Xander’s mother to the hospital. She’d been clutching her wrist and moaning in agony. 

 

“She’s fine,” Giles interjected. “Xander got word before I left the reception, and her husband went with her.”

 

Anya sagged against the dining table, shoving back the gifts with her bouquet – heedless of their subsequent trajectory. Tara reached over and caught a teetering present before it could fall. 

 

“I just can’t believe that stupid guy I cursed showed up at the wedding, pretending to be future Xander. If I was still a vengeance demon, I’d have seen right through that and stopped Xander from becoming so discombobulated by it. It’s my fault he’s so upset. I knew I should have sent him to that segregated dimension with the carnivorous cows. Segregated because who really wants carnivorous cows? Oh god. Oh god. I’ve ruined our wedding. I’ve ruined everything.” She tried to cover her face with her hand before the next sob poured forth. Her veil fluttered to the ground like a kite that had lost its wind. 

 

Dawn mouthed, “Carnivorous cows?” at Willow, who twisted her lips to one side and gave Dawn a brief shrug.

 

“You haven’t ruined everything,” Buffy said with confidence. “Xander loves you.”

 

“B-but the wedding. It’s a terrible start to our marriage.”

 

“A wedding is hardly a marriage. Plenty of awful weddings over the centuries have ended in happy marriages,” Spike noted, and Dawn saw Buffy beam at him.

 

“Well, I’ve hardly seen that side of things, have I?” Anya let out a watery laugh. “Xander said something similar when we were hiding in the bathroom from his family.”

 

“You were hiding in the bathroom from his family?” Dawn asked in disbelief. 

 

Anya gave Dawn a half-smile. “There was a lot of yelling. It was like a war zone. The bathroom was the only place to go. Like shelter in place during a tornado warning.”

 

“It’s really that bad,” Willow agreed. “I’ve been in the middle of it. Once, his dad was drunk and got mad at the referees during the football game he was watching. He threw his recliner. Literally threw it at the TV and broke Xander’s mom’s favorite vase from her grandmother. I’d never seen his mom so mad. Xander dragged me out of the fray because I was frozen on the spot. My parents just do the Cold War routine when they’re mad. I’d never seen anything like it.”

 

“There’s less yelling between his parents nowadays. I think his mom gave up.” Anya sagged a little at the end. 

 

“She just takes it,” Willow added. She held out her arms, and Anya accepted the hug. “I’m so sorry the reception went the way it did. The wedding was beautiful. I cried. I’ve never seen Xander so happy.”

 

Anya moved back to search Willow’s eyes. “You know him very well. He didn’t seem nervous to you?” 

 

Willow smiled. “Nervous, yes. He was super nervous when I checked in with him before the wedding.”

 

“Most gents are nervous before and during their wedding,” Spike said, slipping an arm around Buffy’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “Know I’d be.”

 

Dawn noticed as Buffy reached up and held Spike’s dangling hand. 

 

Giles piped up as he readjusted his glasses on his face after polishing them. “Spike is right. I’d say most people are nervous before making their vows, especially in front of friends and family. There’s a certain amount of pressure that our society places on the ceremony, particularly if the person making the vows is quite serious about making and keeping them.”

 

“A lot of pressure,” Dawn added, nodding, “and very serious.” 

 

Anya teared up again, but there was something different about her demeanor. “Oh, you guys.” She gave Buffy a hug and then moved on to each person. “Thank you for making me feel better.”

 

“Of course,” Buffy said, repeating her earlier assertion and adding a few things. “And we aren’t just blowing smoke. Xander loves you. He’s committed.”

 

“Then, where is he?” Anya had swung back to the land of the hopeless again. 

 

Dawn didn’t know what to say, but her eyes grew round as she saw who’d come in the open back door. 

 

“I’m right here.” Xander looked as bad as he sounded. His eyes were bloodshot, his dark hair was disheveled, and his shirt was untucked. His cummerbund was missing. Dawn decided that he and Anya made quite the atypical wedded pair. 

 

Anya spun to face him. “Oh.” There was so much released in the one syllable that Dawn felt Anya’s tension melting away. “You’re here.”

 

“I’m here.” 

 

Anya ran a hand over his arm. “How are you?” 

 

Xander pressed his lips together in acknowledgment. His fingers found hers – the ring glinting gold on his ring finger. “Not good.”

 

“I’m so, so sorry that the reception went the way it did with that demon showing up and the fighting and your mom getting hurt.” Anya straightened herself and lifted her head. “B-but you’re here now, and everyone else is, too. Well, everyone that matters, and now that your mom’s okay. Giles said your mom was okay. She’s okay, right?” 

 

“She’s fine. I took her and my dad home from the hospital.” Xander gave everyone a brief glance. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot. Really.” 

 

“You know we’ll always be here, Xan,” Willow said, worry etching her forehead. 

 

Buffy shifted out from under Spike’s arm and stepped toward Xander. “And we have everything here. Set to do a little celebrating here with just us.” 

 

“Just don’t ask what almost happened to your cake,” Dawn joked. 

 

Tara’s eyes lit. “What almost happened to the cake?”

 

Spike snorted. “Almost ate dirt on the back porch.” 

 

“’Cause Spike made me be the backward one,” Dawn insisted.

 

“I have the night vision, remember?” He lifted an eyebrow at her.

 

“But the cake survived because I rescued it, as Slayers do,” Buffy said with attempted pep.

 

“A-and we have music for dancing,” Willow gestured toward the living room and then the dining room, “a-and the presents for opening. Giles brought the decorations.”

 

“Indeed, I did.” Dawn noticed Giles wasn’t smiling despite the levity of his words. 

 

Xander’s face didn’t shift away from seriousness. “Guys, I’m not really in the mood. This whole evening. . .” He shook his head and couldn’t meet Anya’s gaze. “I just need a break to sort out where my head is.”

 

“What do you mean where your head is?” Anya’s voice took on an edge of hysteria. “What do you mean a break?”

 

He inhaled deeply and grabbed both of her hands, focusing only on her. “An, you have been an angel, and I love you beyond how much I can tell you.” He hesitated but continued, “But I need some time.”

 

“But we’re married. How much time?” 

 

“I-I don’t know.”

 

“Why?” Anya pulled her hands free of Xander’s. 

 

“It’s not you. God, it sounds so cliché, but it’s me. Between my family and yours and the demon guy posing as future me. I just need to think.” His face was anguished. “I promise I’ll be back.”

 

“When?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Anya’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned her back on him. “Just go.” 

 

Xander stared at the ground, swaying a bit with emotion. Then, he glanced up at Willow and the rest. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Willow started, “Xander – ”

 

“I’ll be fine. I need to do this. Take care of Anya until I come back.” Xander waited until Willow nodded and then left the way he came in. 

 

As soon as he was gone, Anya collapsed against the dining room table as sobs poured forth. Tara and Willow wrapped their arms around Anya. Giles, Spike, and Dawn exchanged looks, retreating into the living room while Buffy joined Tara and Willow in consoling Anya. 

 

Dawn sat with her legs crisscrossed in the back corner of the room to give her sister and the others privacy, and her chest felt tight with anxiety. This was worse than Dawn expected. She didn’t know what she thought would happen. Part of her had really thought that if Xander and Anya made it down the aisle, everything would be alright. But turns out, it wasn’t; it really wasn’t. Dawn felt sick for Anya and also for Xander. 

 

“You okay, Bit?” Spike asked quietly. He was sitting on the floor next to her and lounging against the wall with one knee in the air, his wrist propped atop it.

 

Was she okay? Dawn wasn’t sure. What was happening now was worse the past version of similar events, and it was her fault. Not Xander’s, not Anya’s. “I don’t know.” That was honest. She stared at a spot on the floor where the carpet was stained by who knew what. She fought the urge to jump up to get the cleaner.

 

“They’ll get past this.” Spike sounded certain. “People have gone through worse.”

 

Dawn peeked up at Spike and caught Giles watching Spike intently. “Worse than the groom choosing to leave the bride right after the wedding?”

 

“He’s not leaving her. Fully believe he has every intention of coming back.” Spike didn’t lie. He had no reason to, but still, Dawn was surprised that Spike was saying such a nice thing about Xander.

 

“You think so?” Her heart lightened a little.

 

“I do.” He changed directions. “How was your father?”

 

Dawn made a face at him, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Horrible. Per usual.” 

 

“Still not worth killing?” Spike slid that in so smoothly that Giles was slow to react. 

 

In response to Giles’s alarmed expression, Dawn tried to hide her smile. “Spike. There will be no killing.”

 

“I said not worth killing, didn’t I? And I was waiting for the lady’s response.” Spike gave Dawn a nod. 

 

“He’s still not worth it.” Dawn paused for a half-second before adding, “Yet.”

 

“Dawn! Don’t tempt him,” Giles chided.

 

“Say the word, pigeon. Say the word.” Spike smirked, but Dawn saw that his eyes told her that he was serious.

 

Dawn scooted around and settled her head on Spike’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I will.” 

 

Giles sighed in resignation. 

 

“Giles?” came Buffy’s voice from across the room where her head was poking around the doorway. 

 

Dawn’s head lifted as Giles said, “Yes?”

 

“We got Anya to agree to drink a cup of tea, and she requested that you make it.” 

 

“Yes, yes. Happy to do it.” Giles strode across the room, probably eager to help or to get away from the conversation about killing her dad. Her dad would never be worth killing, but she had a feeling Spike knew that.

 

Dawn sat up and set her chin on her knee, wondering aloud, “Think Anya will be okay?” Would she become a vengeance demon again? Dawn didn’t want Anya to go through that again, especially with losing her friend when she became human again. Even though said friend had caused a lot of needless drama. 

 

“She’s surrounded by loved ones. She has a good shot at being okay. Better than if she were alone.” Spike sounded sure. “But she still has to be open to the support.”

 

“It’s why Buffy’s still alive. It’s why she’s doing okay now.” Dawn smiled at Spike. “Because of us. . . . Because of you.”

 

“Don’t know about that.” Spike shifted as a thoughtful expression crossed over his face. 

 

She wanted to shake him and tell him to believe it. Instead, she took the opening to say, “We are okay because of you. You are part of the family. My family.” 

 

Spike reached over and moved a lock of Dawn’s hair from where it had fallen over her leg, pushing it over her shoulder. He smiled like he was unsure of what to say. 

 

Later that night. . . like around four a.m. later, Buffy stumbled into her bedroom where Dawn and Spike were perched on the edge of the bed like little night owls sitting on a branch. Anya’s sobbing had been off and on, dying down for brief stretches and flaring up again in sporadic intervals. They had all been taking shifts – all but Dawn and Spike, who had been on the periphery waiting for nuggets of news. Everyone had changed into sleepwear at some point. . . everyone except Anya, who had refused to take off her wedding dress.

 

“How is she, love?” Spike asked, his voice husky with exhaustion. Though he was a creature of the darkness, he was fairly adapted to his human family’s schedule of sleeping at night and being awake during the day. 

 

Buffy plunked onto the bed between Spike and Dawn. “Finally drowsy, I think. But Tara is taking this shift just in case. Willow’s passed out on the bed, and Giles is downstairs on the sofa.” Buffy halfheartedly gestured at her alarm clock. “Pass me that please.” 

 

Dawn stretched and snagged the round-faced clock. “Here ya go.”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re setting the damned thing.” Spike tried to wrest it from her. 

 

Buffy snatched it away and started fiddling with the dials, and Dawn was amused that they all seemed sort of drunk from lack of sleep. “Thank god I have tomorrow off, but I have to relieve Tara.”

 

“No, you don’t.” Spike held his hand out for the clock. “I’ll take next shift, and you and Dawn will sleep here.”

 

“Thank you,” Buffy said. She frowned at him and gave him a squinty side-eye. “You’ll be nice?” 

 

“I’m capable of tact.” When Buffy gave him an incredulous look, he huffed. “I know my way around a weepy, unpredictable woman.”

 

Buffy whacked him on the arm. “Hey.”

 

“Ow!” he hissed softly with a grin. “I wasn’t talking about you.” 

 

“He was talking about Drusilla,” Dawn offered, gesturing lazily at Spike. “His crazy-cakes ex.”

 

Buffy slowly crossed her arms and managed to seem somewhat, halfway proud. “At least I’m not in the crazy-cakes category.” She yawned a big, wide yawn. 

 

Dawn couldn’t help but follow suit with a yawn of her own, and Spike good-naturedly rolled his eyes. 

 

Buffy leaned up for a kiss and then said, “Just a warning. If you aren’t careful, you might get cake thrown at you.” 

 

“I can handle cake-throwing.” Spike stood and kissed Buffy on top of her head. As he strode toward the door, he tossed her alarm clock in the air and caught it. “Sleep well, ladies. Borrowing your bed, Bit.” 

 

Dawn broke out of her sleepy reverie to protest, “Don’t throw Mr. Beary Boo on the floor like last time!” 

 

Before she could hear his response, she smelled cinnamon, heralding the next time jump. Happy with the moments she got with her family and saddened by Anya’s pain, Dawn braced herself for what was to come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it looks dire for Xander and Anya, I promise, they'll get there, but they're going to take some time. Hang in there with me?


	31. Chapter Sixteen, What's to Come - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're super behind on comment replies, but I will get to them soon! Life has been...life, and I really wanted to post a chapter on my birthday. We appreciate each and every comment and like so much...more than you know!
> 
> Special thank you to amidtheflowers for her generous and rapid betaing! She really helps with the little details...which I so appreciate. And I must say she was very kind about allowing me to keep a scene that probably didn't need to be there but I really wanted it...with breakfast food and family. 
> 
> Badwolfjedi's mood board is lovely here! She packed a LOT in given how much is in the chapter. I don't know how she does it! 
> 
> Just a little note: the demon Buffy and Spike fought in the last Buffy part was a kind of demon from AtS.

_Buffy_

The house was quiet when Buffy and Spike snuck in through the back door just before dawn. . . quiet and mostly dark. 

 

The soft light of Willow’s laptop glowed on the kitchen island, and a very tired-looking witch was staring at the screen with her chin in her hand. There was something about the lines between her eyebrows and the curve of her back that betrayed her. She wasn’t okay.

 

“Willow?” Buffy asked, exchanging a glance with Spike, who nodded at her, took Buffy’s weapon from her, and headed toward the stairs. 

 

Willow didn’t turn her head, staying focused on the monitor. Her fingers slid over the mouse controller. “Hey, Buffy. Long night slaying the slayable?”

 

Buffy slid onto the seat next to her friend. “Um, yeah. A two-headed demon. Never seen one like him. Spike knew the species, but I can’t remember what he called him. The books all say it breathes fire, but the fire actually comes out. . . the other end.” Fire coming out of a demon’s backside was totally of the unexpected. Kinda like her love declaration. 

 

This got Willow’s head to lift, and she made a face as she ran a hand over her ponytail. “Gross. And super weird.”

 

“Tell me about it. We had to behead him. Both heads.”

 

“It took all night? And did he set everything on fire?” Willow gave her a once-over. “You don’t look,” she sniffed in Buffy’s direction, “or smell all singed.”

 

Buffy shook her head and swallowed the nervous feeling that was coming up her throat. This was Willow – her best friend. “We sorta went by the Magic Box and took a shower.” Her heart beat a little faster as soon as she finished the sentence.

 

Willow’s eyes widened and brightened – just a smidge. “Together?”

 

Fidgeting with the folded kitchen towel in front of her, Buffy smiled and admitted, “Yeah.”

 

“Oh.” Willow’s single syllable was inscrutable. 

 

Buffy’s chest tightened. “Oh?” 

 

“I never thought you’d be here.” Willow jogged her laptop back to life when it started to power down.

 

“What does that mean?” The back of Buffy’s neck prickled in defense of Spike.

 

“I-I never thought you’d be here. . . sitting next to me, talking about dating stuff.” Willow was back with the sad – her green eyes heavy with sorrow. 

 

“Oh.” Buffy glanced over at Willow and then couldn’t help but hook her arm around the witch’s and pull her close. “I’m here. I missed talking with you about dating stuff, too.” The distance between them after Buffy’s resurrection had never really improved until Willow came back from England. And here, Buffy was inevitably distant from Willow again in this timeline and in the future. Buffy’s heart ached with loneliness for the precious lost time. 

 

“So, you and Spike, huh? I can’t say I didn’t see that coming a thousand miles away.” Willow sounded. . . happy for her? This somehow shouldn’t have surprised Buffy. Willow was always in the Buffy-needs-to-be-happy-in-romance camp, and though she knew that logically – had even said so to Spike – Buffy had been worried. 

 

Buffy drew back and grinned at her friend. “You did?” 

 

Willow rolled her eyes. “He’s in your bed every night. You seem happy. . . well, happier.” Something shut down in her eyes, but Buffy saw her shove it away with a small shake of her head. “And you took things to the next level tonight. . . .” Willow squinted at her laptop clock. “Er, this morning?”

 

“Yes and yes.” Buffy felt her cheeks heat up, which luckily wouldn’t be obvious in the dim twilight.

 

Willow smirked. “Ohhh.” When Buffy didn’t respond, Willow asked, “You love him?”

 

Buffy hugged her arms around her chest but held her head up, meeting Willow’s gaze. “I do. I love him a lot, Wil.” God, she hoped her past self would be okay with the “lot” part, but now that it was out, Buffy found that she couldn’t tamp it back down. Not anymore. 

 

“You’ve come a long way from wanting me to put the barrier back up.” Willow’s amusement was catching. 

 

That was a long time ago. It felt like eons ago, and at the same time, Buffy considered that choosing to be with Spike felt inevitable. “A long, long way.”

 

“I’m happy for you. You’ve been through a lot and deserve some happiness, and if nothing comes from. . . everything, I know that you have to hold onto the moments you get.” Willow poked at her keyboard again. 

 

Buffy leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand. “Then why does my bestie seem so glum?” 

 

Willow froze as if she’d been found out. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

 

“Just a little.” Buffy made an executive decision. “But first, tea. Want some?” They needed tea for what she sensed might be an important conversation. Making tea took the heat off things and also gave them something soothing to drink. 

 

Willow gave her a grateful smile. “Sure.”

 

Buffy hopped off her seat, flipped on the softer of the kitchen lights, and gathered the supplies to make the beverage. When the tea was made, Buffy slid the mug with a cow on it to Willow and kept the kitten one. Last time she had a serious conversation with Giles, he had had the kitten mug and that had led to badness. Badness of the moment anyway. Buffy was all for making a small change even if it made no difference in what would happen next. 

 

Willow looked up from where she’d been pretending to consume herself in her internet search, accepting the mug and cupping it to take in the heat. “Thank you.”

 

“Welcome.” Buffy dunked her bag up and down so that the minty scent wafted up to her nose. “Now, what’s up? Is everything okay with Tara?” 

 

“Tara and I are. . . surprisingly good. Better than I deserve.” Willow emulated Buffy and dunked and swirled her tea bag – a halfhearted swirl. 

 

Buffy found herself saying, “You deserve happiness, too.”

 

Willow stared at her cup. “I’m still struggling with magic. The other night at Xander’s wedding reception when everything went wonky? I wanted to put everyone in their place and force a happy ending. That’s not okay. I know it’s not okay. That’s not what needed to happen. Tara’s right. I can’t force people to bend to my will because I have the power. And I know I have to find the middle path, but I’m really not there.”

 

For some reason, Buffy felt a pang of her own guilt. Was that what she and Dawn were trying to do with Spike? Force a happy ending? Buffy tried to ignore the feeling and focused on her friend. “You’re doing the best you can. I see you trying. Really trying. And in the end, you didn’t force anyone to do anything at the reception.”

 

Willow’s resolve face slid into place. “It’s not enough. There’s something inside me,” her hand went to her belly, “that needs to be fixed.” 

 

Buffy bit her lip, considering her own depression and trauma, considering the way she treated Spike before, the way she was treating him even now. Oh, god. “I get that more than you know.” 

 

“And that’s my fault. You being so down. So traumatized.” At Buffy’s stern fierce look, Willow added, “At the very least, partly my fault.”

 

“How so?” 

 

This time, Willow made sure to make steady eye contact. “You wouldn’t have lost heaven. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be at peace.” Tears began to fall in steady streams, but she didn’t look away from Buffy. “You deserved to be at peace, and I-I stole that from you.” She swallowed awkwardly like she was trying to hold back emotion. 

 

Buffy’s eyes filled, too, and her protest was strong, “Willow, you didn’t – ”

 

Willow held up her hand. “No. You have to let me own this. I was selfish. We were selfish. We wanted you back, and I-I just assumed that because you were closing a hell dimension, you were in one. It was wrong. I was wrong. . . . I wanted you back but not at the price of your happiness.”

 

Buffy felt one of her own tears rush down her cheek. “I’m getting there, Wil. I am.” It had taken Buffy two timelines to do it, but she was. Finally. 

 

“I. . . I’m glad.” Willow bit the inside of her cheek and blinked rapidly, her gaze dropping to her tea again. The liquid was darker than it should have been. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m sorry that I’ve caused you so much pain. It’s been hard to look at. Hard to see. But I see it, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

Buffy was dizzy with emotion. Here was yet another genuine apology from her other best friend. She hadn’t expected this, and yet, here the apology was. Abandoning her virtually untouched tea, Buffy circled around the kitchen island to take Willow into her arms. A sob pushed forth from Buffy’s mouth as Willow relaxed against her, crying harder. The contrast with the peaceful meditation they’d shared on Buffy’s bed in the other timeline was huge. Even still, Buffy leaned into the connection until their tears subsided. 

 

Over Willow’s shoulder, Buffy admitted, “It’s okay if figuring out the magic stuff takes time. This depression stuff. . . sometimes I feel okay and sometimes I’m still not. I’m still figuring out how to navigate things, too.” Buffy hadn’t quite been herself even in that last year in Sunnydale. “Lots of things help. Like the people in my life. And that includes you.” 

 

Willow held her tighter. “I’m going to England. This summer. The coven that Giles has been working with on the thing we’re meeting about? They’ve agreed to help me learn what to do with the magic stuff.” 

 

Buffy wondered if this was in lieu of her friend going all Dark Willow, if the universe would allow that. Buffy chose to stay hopeful. “I’m glad you’re getting help.”

 

“I promise I’m coming back though. I’m not leaving forever,” Willow reassured her. “I’m not leaving you.”

 

Buffy closed her eyes. “I know.” 

 

“It just means you need to finally get a cell phone. So we can talk on the regular.” Willow’s tone was teasing. 

 

“I will. I’ll make Giles pay for it.”

 

Willow laughed and then sobered. “Tara’s coming with me.” 

 

Instead of dying? Buffy’s heart skipped a beat. “Good.” She hoped. She really hoped that with Warren locked up, nothing would happen to her friend. To distract herself again, Buffy glanced back at their cold tea. “Want a fresh cup?”

 

Willow wrinkled her nose at her cow mug. “Yes, please. But maybe some coffee instead?”

 

Willow and Buffy ended up making coffee with a side of pancakes and then added some bacon. The scent of the meat cooking brought Spike down with Dawn, who pulled the blinds closed for him. A sleepy-looking Giles appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, donning his glasses, and running a hand through his mussed hair. He made a beeline for the used tea kettle. 

 

Spike reached around Buffy, snagging a piece of bacon from where it sizzled in the frying pan, and she teasingly slapped his hand. He merely leered and lifted a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it eyebrow at her. 

 

Using Spike’s distraction, Dawn plucked at another piece of bacon, dropping the hot meat directly onto her plate and sucking the grease off her fingers. 

 

Giles edged around Dawn to situate his now full tea kettle on an empty burner while Spike headed for the cabinet to retrieve a couple of mugs, one of which he handed to Giles. 

 

As Dawn slid into a vacant seat, Willow plopped pancakes next to the stolen bacon on Dawn’s dish.

 

Spike shoved his mug full of blood into the microwave and licked some blood off his finger before returning the pitcher to the fridge. 

 

Having transferred the now crispy bacon to the previously cooked pile on the paper towel-covered plate, Buffy passed Dawn the syrup – just one kind and not four, breaking the silence with a whispered, “Gosling?”

 

Dawn made a face at her. “I’m not your baby goose.”

 

Buffy brushed off her disappointment by sticking out her tongue. “You are today because well, I come bearing cooked food.”

 

Tara joined them next, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear upon witnessing the hustle and bustle of the morning routine. 

 

With a new lightness about her demeanor, Willow beamed at her and brought her a pancake laden plate and fork. “Good morning, Sunshine.” 

 

Tara leaned in for a kiss. “Mmmm. . . morning. Thank you, breakfast fairy.”

 

In waiting for his water to boil, Giles passed out small glasses of orange juice while Buffy poured coffee for those who wanted it – even Dawn. 

 

Soon, everyone had nourishment of some sort and was lounging around the small kitchen together and relaxing. Buffy surveyed the group, sighing with happiness as she munched on a piece of bacon. She marked the moment in her mind – all of them having breakfast together. . . well, mostly everyone. Anya and Xander weren’t there. Still, Buffy relished the togetherness; they didn’t have that in quite the same way anymore since Sunnydale collapsed under Spike’s will. 

 

Buffy’s eyes flicked to Spike’s, and he gave her a quizzical look as he sipped his blood. She smiled at him. She wanted to tell everyone how much she loved him, but she had to wait. Well, she wanted to wait until even Xander and Anya were there, but no one had heard a lot from Xander except for the few times he called to tell them he was okay. Maybe now would be better? Willow already knew and so did Dawn – even past Dawn. Maybe a wave of revelations was better than a big announcement? Buffy still felt protective of Anya’s feelings. Buffy bit her lip uncertainly.

 

Giles saved her from making a decision by declaring, “Let’s all meet at the Magic Box in an hour. Anya offered to open today, so she’ll want the gathering to be there. Spike, I trust you’ll make it there in daylight hours.”

 

Spike tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Of course. I have my ways.” 

 

“A.k.a. Buffy’s trunk,” Dawn said lightly, popping a last piece of bacon in her mouth.

 

“We should really come up with a better way.” Buffy started gathering up plates and glasses, and Giles followed suit. 

 

“We could black out the windows like in Buffy’s bedroom,” Willow suggested as if she had just thought of this novel idea.

 

Spike was at the sink, rinsing his mug in keeping with Dawn’s mug-rinsing insistence. “Would be most appreciated. Though I am rather fond of the half-eaten granola bar and the giant car repair manual. Where did you find the bloody thing? It’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen.“ 

 

Buffy crossed her arms. “It’s just in case I need it. I don’t know anything about cars.”

 

Giles sighed resignedly, Tara giggled, and no one freaked out. Buffy took that as a good sign. 

 

An hour and a half later, everyone arrived at the Magic Box. The stupid bell that Giles had fixed heralded their entrance as Spike pushed past the group with a blanket over his head. The faintest hint of smoke and cooked flesh trailing behind him. 

 

Anya’s head didn’t lift from where she was studying something on the counter by the register. “Morning,” she murmured. 

 

Compassion rolled over Buffy though she wasn’t quite sure how to read Anya’s tone. Xander’s wife was trying to go back to work, trying to get a semblance of a life back even if her marriage had gone straight from beautiful ceremony to complete disaster. She was even managing makeup, washing her hair, and wearing clothes other than her wedding dress, which she had worn for five days before Dawn and Tara coaxed Anya out of it and into the shower. Buffy had even talked Anya into a new hairstyle because a fresh start was of the good. Anya had gone gung-ho and now had a bob with a streak of pink on one side. 

 

Dawn paused in front of Anya, surveying her. “Nice earrings. You should wear lots of earrings now with your hair. These look so sparkly.” Dawn reached out as if to touch them.

 

Anya shook her head proudly though her eyes were still sad. “You think?”

 

“I think,” Dawn said assuredly with a matching lift of her chin. 

 

Buffy tugged on a shiny lock of her sister’s hair and realized that Anya was reading some ancient-looking book – no doubt from Giles’s private collection. “Come on.”

 

“Coming, Anya?” Dawn nudged. 

 

Anya tucked a dollar bill in the book to mark her place and shut it gently, giving Dawn a halfhearted smile. “I am.”

 

Buffy slid into the chair next to Spike, taking his hand and holding it on top of the table where everyone could see. She avoided looking at anyone so that she could scrounge up the courage for her announcement. Irrational fear of being rejected by the people she loved so much rushed up and made her heart pound in her chest. 

 

Spike shifted his hand so that his fingers pushed between hers and squeezed. A small smile graced his face, and a bit of disbelief haunted his eyes. The disbelief gave her courage – a reminder of what she was fighting for. 

 

Giles was standing and shuffling some papers around, preparing his presentation. Willow looked a bit sick, and Tara was rubbing her leg in reassurance. Dawn was patting the seat next to her for Anya, who perched on the edge as if she didn’t exactly belong. 

 

Buffy cleared her throat, and several pairs of eyes were on her. She drew herself up, and her eyes met Willow’s, who managed to give her an encouraging smile. “I just. . . I wanted to share something before we get started on the next dire thing that my resurrection caused.”

 

“What’s that, Buffy?” Giles was still distracted as he identified a paper he’d been looking for and moved it into the third-page position. 

 

“Buffy and Spike are dating,” Anya said with an odd mix of her usual bluntness and wounded vulnerability. “And most likely they took it to the next level by having lots of sex.” 

 

“Yes. That’s it.” Buffy’s thunder was slightly stolen. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks, and she sat on her hands. “The dating part.” 

 

Spike rubbed her thigh under the tabletop with his now free hand, his fingers skimming over her inner thigh and dangerously close to places that made her squirm with desire. Damn him. 

 

“We all know that, Buffy,” Tara said softly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend around us. We’re your family.”

 

Willow’s mouth tilted sideways. “We kinda all already knew.” 

 

Giles repeated something similar to what he’d said to Spike when he thought Buffy was unconscious. “There are bigger matters to be concerned with other than whom you’re dating.” Giles met Buffy’s gaze and smiled. “My Slayer was right about that.” 

 

“Oh.” Buffy bit her lip and then realized what he meant. “Oh.”

 

Spike sat forward from where he was lounging back. “So, what’s the latest, Rupert? We know about some bloody balance change in the supernatural undercurrent of this world and that it’s tied to Buffy’s resurrection.”

 

“And the dark magic I used.” Willow bowed her head briefly, but only a heartbeat passed before she lifted her eyes again.

 

“We used,” Anya insisted. “You and Tara and me and Xander. We’re all culpable. And there’s no reason to continue to spin on the what-ifs. It’s done. And when something is done, it’s done.” Her jaw set, and she momentarily averted her eyes, blinking rapidly. 

 

Buffy watched Dawn lean over and lay her head on Anya’s shoulder. 

 

Giles hesitated but continued, no doubt providing a distraction from Anya’s pain. “The latest news from my research and consultations with various trustworthy members of the Watchers’ Council – ” 

 

Spike scoffed. “There are trustworthy members of the Wankers’ Council?”

 

Giles pressed his lips together in annoyance but didn’t rise to the bait. “And from working with the coven of witches in Devon, is that there is some ancient and powerful force gathering momentum and threatening to come forward to destroy supernatural elements in this world that are on the side of good as it were.” 

 

Buffy knew what this was. She had been avoiding thinking about it, but she knew at some point, she’d have to face that the First Evil would make its routine appearance on this trip through the timeline, particularly given where she and Dawn had landed in the past. Buffy had no idea what she should do. Should she give the people she loved a little nudge in that direction or wait it out? Her indecision led her to land on, “A force we need to push back. Per usual.” 

 

“That’s just it.” Giles rifled through the stack in front of him and pulled out a scrap of paper. “Part of what we know is that the force is likely incorporeal. It is that which cannot be defeated by sword or fist, guns or chemicals. It is untouchable and therefore indestructible.”

 

“Kinda like Big Blue? No weapon forged and all that rot? Turned out to be not so true.” Spike cast a half-amused glance at Buffy. 

 

“O-or maybe it’s some kind of spirit or ghost. Kinda like that thing that hitched a ride with Buffy? That we created when we brought her back?” Tara suggested. 

 

Remembered hopelessness of those early days back on Earth echoed achingly through Buffy’s heart. “Oh, that.” 

 

Spike gently rubbed Buffy’s thigh again. 

 

“No, that was something else altogether. Something much less sinister.” Giles poked at the stack in front of him. “This. This force is reported to have been around before the dawn of mankind.”

 

“Something like Lucifer? A fallen angel?” Dawn wondered. 

 

“Never known a bloke calling himself Lucifer unless he just wanted to be laughed out of any reputable demon circle. And in all my unlife, I’ve never heard a whit about angels,” Spike noted.

 

“Actually,” Anya said quietly. “There are angels. They’re a testy bunch, and some are a bit snooty, but for the most part, they keep away from the mortal coil. They do other things. Good things. If you do meet one, you won’t remember after your initial encounter.”

 

“Huh,” Spike said. “There you have it. You’ve been around a lot longer than me.”

 

All this talk of angels made Buffy’s body flood with the memory of being totally relaxed and at peace with no worries of anything or about anyone. There was a longing to go back there that she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. Spike must have sensed something was up because he moved his chair closer to hers so that their thighs touched, grounding her. Her head lifted; she hadn’t even realized that she was closing down. She found his eyes with hers and the blueness of them made her realize that she was holding her breath. She deliberately let out the air from her lungs and drew oxygen in slowly until she felt steady again. 

 

“And,” Anya was still talking, “there are several powerful demons in the demon-community that are very afraid of whatever this force is.” She suddenly picked up a book on the table and opened it with one hand. Her other hand ran shakily down the back of her short bob and neck. “Or so I’ve heard from my friends who were at the wedding. Even D’Hoffryn is a little nervous, and he’s never fazed by anything.”

 

“So, what can we do about it?” Willow asked, playing with one of her fingernails. 

 

“That, I do not know,” Giles said. “I’m going to be returning to England soon.”

 

Buffy’s head shot up in alarm. She didn’t want him to go back to England so soon. What if lots of badness happened while he was gone again? What if the First had the Council blown up early or bringers killing potentials and watchers sooner? What if, as soon as he left, Tara was killed and Willow went all vein-y and raven-haired? Buffy made a split-second decision. “Could it be the First Evil? That thing that said it was the evilest of the evils in the universe? The one that tried to get Angel to kill himself?”

 

“Angel tried to off himself?” Spike said without a trace of resentment or sarcasm.

 

“Yeah, but the snow stopped him,” Buffy said. “It started snowing before the sun could come up.”

 

“Of bloody course it did.” There was the sarcasm covering his tender underbelly.

 

This time, Buffy pressed her leg into Spike’s to comfort him. 

 

“I hadn’t thought of the First Evil,” Giles said thoughtfully. “It bears researching.”

 

“As in researching here?” Buffy asked brightly. 

 

With one hand raised, Giles reassured her, “I won’t be gone long. I know I’m needed here with all of you. This is my home, too. But I do need to consult further with the watchers I trust as well as the witches in the Devon coven. Perhaps take part in some of their investigative spells. And also prepare them for the arrival of two powerful witches.” 

 

“And separate everybody? If this evil force is as bad as you say it is, shouldn’t we all be together?” Dawn asked, seeming younger than her age. Her blue eyes were wide with fear like she thought there was a monster under her bed.

 

“Better to shore everyone up now while the power is gathering versus when it’s actively throwing its hat in the ring,” Spike said. 

 

The fear in Dawn’s eyes lessened. “True.”

 

“Can I throw my hat in the ring?” came a familiar voice tinged with sadness. 

 

Willow perked up as mixed emotions played over her face. “Xander.”

 

Buffy turned toward the training room door. “You’re back.”

 

Xander’s face was scruffy with stubble, and his brown eyes were heavy with fatigue. He slid a blue duffle bag off his shoulder. “I’m back. Thinking I’m giving whatever evil force you’re referencing a run for its money.” No one moved, so Xander addressed Anya, his fingers fidgeting with the wedding ring still on his finger, “I’m so, so sorry. More than you could ever know. I-I know there’s no excuse for hurting you. You didn’t deserve what I did to you. Leaving like that. I needed a moment to. . . to get my head on straight, so I could come back here and be the husband you deserve.”

 

Anya stood abruptly, her chair crashing backward behind her. “Y-you hurt me.” She sounded broken and tired and angry all at once. “You l-left me for days. Days, Xander.”

 

Xander took a step forward. “I know. I know I did, and I could use a minute of your time. Please, honey.” 

 

Giles nodded at Buffy, who stood and tugged Spike by the hand. The vampire, for his part, was looking back and forth between Anya and Xander with interest. Buffy couldn’t resist rolling her eyes at Spike. . . her boyfriend. Her boyfriend! Willow and Tara rapidly disappeared into the training room followed by Giles and Dawn. 

 

Xander’s eyes fell on Buffy and Spike’s hands joined together. Some unreadable emotion flickered through Xander’s eyes as he made eye contact with her. Was that disapproval and disgust? Still? Was this what Spike saw in her eyes when she used to look at him? Oh, god. 

 

“Xander, leave them alone,” Anya snapped. “At least he hasn’t left her.”

 

Exchanging a look with the ex-demon, Buffy caught a whiff of cinnamon and felt the familiar tug of time travel pulling her along. Anya’s eyes widened in surprise, and then, Buffy was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready to hang onto your hats, y'all! What's to come indeed...


	32. Chapter Seventeen, The Universe Asserts Itself - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm terrified to post this chapter. Terrified. 
> 
> But first, I can't thank amidtheflowers enough for her beta job here! She is a comma fiend.
> 
> And badwolfjedi's board is perfect for the chapter. 
> 
> There is a soundtrack for this chapter and the next. I plan to post both chapters fairly close together as they go together. I can't remember where I heard this originally, but I've been planning this crossroads for a while, and this song kept popping up over and over. The song is called Experience by Ludovico Einaudi: https://youtu.be/_VONMkKkdf4 
> 
> Hang in there with me. Please. This story is about healing, but big moments come. It's what you do after that counts.

_Buffy_

“Kit!” Dawn’s familiar voice pushed through Buffy’s transition with the time jump.

 

A laugh tumbled past her lips as she blinked away the cinnamon, the jarring effect of the shift, and the look in Anya’s eyes. What did that even mean? Buffy didn’t have time to think because as soon as she realized she was alone in the kitchen with her sister, she said, “There are too many animals with babies called ‘kits.’ Fox. Rabbit. Cat. Beaver – ”

 

Dawn cut her off as she practically tackled Buffy with a bear hug. It was definitely a bear and not a cub worthy hug. 

 

Buffy was holding a wet dish, but she managed to embrace her sister in return without dropping the plate. It was just after breakfast from the smell of eggs and the slant of the sunshine through the blinds. The bacon had been delicious. “I’m so glad to see you,” Buffy whispered. 

 

Dawn pushed her face into Buffy’s hair. “Me, too. You don’t even know how glad. Glad doesn’t come close to covering it.”

 

“It really doesn’t. Ecstatic?” Buffy stroked her sister’s long, dark strands.

 

“Better. Jubilant?”

 

Buffy wrinkled her nose even though Dawn couldn’t see it. “No. Not quite right.”

 

Dawn drew her head back but didn’t leave the embrace. “Did you just silently ‘uch’ my feeling word choice?” 

 

Buffy rolled her eyes heavenward. “No!” 

 

“The happiest?”

 

Buffy hugged her close again. “Perfect.” 

 

“When are we?” Dawn took a step back, glancing around the empty kitchen full of dirty dishes.

 

Reaching back for the damp yellow dish towel, Buffy dried the plate in her hand, starting a small pile of clean things along with an already clean, still somewhat damp mug – Spike’s green mug, the one he’d stolen from Giles’s apartment. She smiled briefly at the thought of Spike and what he’d done to her this morning before everyone else was awake. She could still feel the trail of his cool fingers over her belly and to places that sent her. . . places that Dawn didn’t need to know about. Buffy bit her lip, focusing on her sister’s question. “In terms of before? No idea.” 

 

Dawn gathered up dishes. “Giles is gone. Back to England to check on what’s going on with the imbalance related to your resurrection.”

 

“Yeah. The coming of the First.” Buffy accepted Dawn’s offerings and set them in the sink, putting the stopper in place and flipping on the faucet. “Willow and Tara are in class.” 

 

Dawn took on a brief, dreamy expression as she grabbed at and snagged a dirty glass that was still partially filled with cranberry juice. “Willow’s just tagging along. Unofficially auditing to be near Tara.” 

 

“I’m so glad they’re fixing things sooner than later.” Buffy swallowed past a lump of fear in her throat. She didn’t know if the two witches’ togetherness meant Tara was about to die. Dawn’s eyes rounded with sadness, so Buffy took the conversation in a different direction. “Spike’s sleeping upstairs. We had a long night patrolling. New vampire crew in town, trying to set up a nest. It took a while to track them down.” A yawn overtook Buffy. “I’m exhausted.”

 

Dawn followed Buffy’s lighter topic. “I bet. It’s Friday, but we have a teacher in-service day at school. Yay, me! No math this time.” 

 

Buffy laughed again. “That’s good.” 

 

Dawn looked like she’d just remembered something. Her shoulders sagged slightly. “But I do have to go help Anya at the shop again. Last time, she had me triple checking the books, and then, she did, too.” 

 

“Sorry. That’s no fun.” Anya still alternated between irritable and sad and was taking it out on everyone around her. Xander was still trying to talk with her, but as far as Buffy knew, he was hinging the blame on his parents and not his own issues with his parents’ marriage and fears about commitment. There was something else getting in their way, but at the moment, it eluded Buffy.

 

Dawn shrugged and gathered up the dirty utensils in a clattering clump. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. It makes her feel better to have control over something in her life. Namely, me as her Magic Box slave until she decides I’ve made up for my sticky fingers problem.”

 

“She’ll get there. Maybe once she and Xander are doing better.” Buffy moved to the right, so Dawn could dump her load into the slowly filling sink. 

 

Squirting some orange-scented dish soap into the streaming water, Dawn asked, “You and Spike are doing well. Really well.”

 

Buffy couldn’t help but grin at her sister. “Yeah.”

 

“You guys are saying the ‘L’ word and everything,” Dawn teased. “A lot.”

 

Buffy rinsed a bowl so that the last of the milk-laden Frosted Flakes slid down the drain. “It’s so easy this time. We’re both different.”

 

“Those little changes have made a big difference in your relationship. I don’t know why I didn’t see how bad it was before. And now, I love having him around, and everyone else doesn’t mind. Only Xander.” Dawn leaned forward, nabbed the other sponge, and began helping Buffy. 

 

“Not surprisingly.” Buffy gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “I need to talk with him about it, but he has his own stuff going on. I don’t want to add to it.”

 

“Makes perfect sense.” Dawn added her work to Buffy’s growing clean-and-waiting-to-be dried pile. 

 

“How are you doing?” 

 

Dawn was quiet for a few seconds as she scrubbed a particularly sticky fork. “Better. The time travel is getting easier. The further we go, the more I’m used to being back here, and the more I’m used to being in our current lives. I know we screwed up. I still believe that. But I’m trying to make the best of it. And honestly? My past self is so much happier. I am so much happier with the way things are going. I feel more connected to you, to Spike, to Giles, to Tara, to everyone.” 

 

Buffy put an arm around her sister’s shoulders, patting her with a soapy, wet hand. “I’m so glad. And I. . .” The guilt was still real, but she was the queen of the guilt. “I’m more in-the-moment girl for sure, but I still worry.” The look in Anya’s eyes right before Buffy jumped was more than a little unsettling. The thing she’d forgotten about Anya suddenly fell into place. “Anya’s a vengeance demon again.” Buffy’s stomach sank. “I-I thought it might not happen again since they got married.”

 

“Me, too. And since we’ve been spending so much time with her. . . not letting her be alone.” Dawn’s eyes widened. “We’re supposed to confront her at lunch today when she drops by the house.” 

 

Taking a step back, Buffy matched her expression, her hand going to her belly as her stomach twisted with anxiety. “Dawnie, she might know about the spell.”

 

“What do you mean?” Dawn touched her hand. 

 

“When I jumped this last time, she saw something.” Buffy leaned on the kitchen island. 

 

“W-what?” 

 

“Something about how I was skipping away? I don’t know.”

 

“Oh.” Dawn paled, her voice full of dread. 

 

“What?”

 

Dawn rushed to explain. “At Xander and Anya’s wedding. Hallie met me in the hallway after my fail of a speech. She said there was something about me. . . and you. She specifically said there was a shift. I-I wasn’t sure what she meant. I thought she could tell I was the Key, but now. . .”

 

The truth was too scary for Buffy to fathom. “They know. Hallie and Anya know.”

 

“Oh, my god. What do we do?” 

 

“What do we do about what?” Xander asked from where he was entering the back door. “And uh, you do know that the water is running, the sink is filling, and you’re not washing things?” He gestured toward the forgotten dishes.

 

Buffy almost had a heart attack. How long had he been standing there? She scrambled to cover as she lunged over to turn off the faucet. “Anya. How are we going to handle things with her?” 

 

Xander’s under eyes were dark with exhaustion. He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin, but he was wearing his work clothes, hardhat, and heavy boots. Buffy had no idea he could be so silent in them. But it was a good sign that he was coping well enough to work at his current construction site. “I think we shouldn’t all be there.” 

 

Buffy prickled defensively. She knew he meant Spike, but now wasn’t the time to address it. “Who should be there?”

 

Xander scooped off his hat and set it on the kitchen island, running shaking fingers through his sweat-moistened hair. “I’m thinking you, me, and Wil. Sorry, Dawnster.”

 

Dawn hitched one shoulder up in a very teenager-y way. “No big. I’ll just go upstairs.”

 

“Hey!” Willow pushed through the back door with Tara on her heels. The two witches were holding hands and had matching leather bags slung over their shoulders. Buffy considered that maybe they’d gone shopping together. She’d seen the same colorful purse in a boutique near the fro-yo shop. 

 

“Hey, guys,” Dawn said. “Tara, you and me? We’re being sent away.”

 

Tara made a confused face. “Huh?” 

 

Willow frowned. “Why does Tara have to leave?”

 

“I just think it’d be better with fewer people,” Xander said softly. “Less like an intervention.”

 

“It sort of is an intervention,” Willow protested. “Shouldn’t everyone that cares about Anya be there? Isn’t that what an intervention is?”

 

Xander glanced at Buffy desperately, so Buffy took a step forward. “You think it should just be the three of us and Anya?”

 

Xander nodded. “Buffy because that’s how we found out, and Willow because. . . well, I need my best friends.” Tears filled his eyes. “What if she doesn’t take it well? What’ll we do then?”

 

Willow let go of Tara’s hands and gave Xander a big hug. “We’ll try and try and try again. No matter how many times it takes to help her.” 

 

Xander clung to Willow like she was a lifeboat that was too small for him. “O-okay.”

 

A car engine sounded in the driveway. 

 

Dawn peered out the small window. “It’s her!” She hurried to Tara and grabbed her by the sleeve. “Let’s go.”

 

Tara nodded, trailing after Dawn. Tara glanced back when she reached the doorway. Her expression was earnest. “Good luck. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

 

“Thank you,” Xander said, his eyes heavy with fear and sadness, his hands helpless weights at his sides. 

 

As Tara and Dawn ran up the stairs, Anya breezed through the open back door. She was dressed in a flouncy skirt and lacy top, and she stopped short when she saw Buffy, Willow, and Xander. 

 

“Who died?” she asked with a little irony. “Xander, what are you doing here? I thought you had to work.” She sounded annoyed that he was there. “I thought I was having a girls lunch with, well, the girls. Where’s Dawn? Tara?” Her eyes narrowed when no one said anything. “What is this?”

 

Willow edged around Anya to close the back door. 

 

“An, honey. We need to chat.” Xander pulled out one of the stools at the island and sat down. He dragged out the other one and patted the top. “Sit.”

 

Anya crossed her arms. “No.”

 

“Please,” he pleaded. “I love you, and I need you to sit. Just for a little bit. Hear what we have to say and then you can go if you want to.” 

 

Anya glanced back and forth among the three of them, lingering on Buffy just long enough to make her squirm. After what felt like an eternity, Anya lowered her arms. “Fine.” She slid onto the seat, perching on the edge like an anxious bird – ready to take flight if needed. When no one said anything for a heartbeat too long, she huffed. “What? Spit it out.”

 

Xander took a deep breath. “Anya, we know that you’re a vengeance demon again.”

 

Panic filled Anya’s eyes like she’d just been exposed. “What? I most certainly am not!” 

 

Xander reached out a hand to touch her arm, but Anya pulled back. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch. “We know you are. You don’t have to hide it.”

 

“And we aren’t mad,” Willow said softly. “We all make mistakes.”

 

“Yes, yes, you do!” Anya said with sharpness in her tone. “You all do. But I didn’t make a mistake.”

 

Buffy swallowed past the fear in her throat. “Actually, we do know that you’re a vengeance demon again. I heard about it at work.” And she had. One of her regulars, Hailey, had told her one evening when she’d brought her family around for their weekly fro-yo trip. But Buffy wasn’t about to out one of her best customers. “Lots of demon customers. They share things. And Anya, we’re not mad at you. We just want to help you.”

 

“She’s right, hun.” Xander stepped in when Anya was glaring at Buffy a little too long. “We want to help you.”

 

“How can you possibly help me, husband?” Anya spat out, her voice growing shriller with each syllable. “How do you know I want to be helped? How do you know that I didn’t choose this life for myself? How do you know this isn’t what I needed? Especially after what you did!”

 

Xander put his palms up to her. “O-okay.” He was silent for a long moment as he stared at his feet. When he lifted his head again, there were tears on his cheeks. “I know I deserved that. Deserve that. I know I screwed up. But I love you, and I’m your husband, and I want to make up for what I did. I want to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. If you’ll just let me help you.”

 

Anya’s eyes filled with matching tears. “But you can’t. It’s too late.”

 

“We can talk to D’Hoffryn,” Willow offered. “He likes me, I think. Because. . . because well, I let my emotions drive my use of magic. He’s good at that. Preying on vulnerable people to try to get them to do vengeance-y things for him. And he preyed on you at your most vulnerable.”

 

Xander took that and ran with it. “You have us to back you. We all love you. You just have to be open with us. Tell us the truth.”

 

Anya looked uncertain, and Buffy thought that maybe, her friend was going to relent. But then, Anya glared. “I’m not the one you should be asking about truths.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Willow asked in confusion. 

 

Buffy felt panic soar through her chest as Anya turned toward her. “You need to talk with Buffy about that.”

 

Xander glanced over at Buffy. “What are you talking about? Buffy doesn’t have any secrets.”

 

“Yes, she does,” Anya said and then addressed Buffy. “Are you going to tell them or should I?”

 

Buffy had to buy some time. What exactly did Anya know? “T-tell them what?” 

 

“About the spell. Tell them what you did to the timeline. Our timeline.” Buffy swore that Anya’s voice was deeper – more demon-like.

 

“W-what do you mean?”

 

Anya sighed. “Do I have to spell everything out? Apparently, the answer is yes, I have to tell them.” Anya circled the island until she was standing right in front of Buffy. “Something isn’t right. With you and Dawn. Want to know how I know?” When Buffy stayed mum, Anya continued, “Vengeance demons specialize in altering reality. Timelines, dimensional shifts, transformations. We alter things. And as a result, we can tell when something isn’t quite right. Hallie noticed it first. When she was with Dawn at the school, then again at the Magic Box, and at the wedding. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. And then, when I took up the mission again, guess what? I sensed it, too. So, now who needs to tell the truth?”

 

Buffy was too terrified to even so much as move her gaze from Anya’s challenging one. 

 

“Buffy?” Willow’s voice sounded oddly far away. “What’s she talking about?” 

 

When Buffy didn’t say anything, Xander asked, “Is it true?”

 

This was the moment that Buffy had been dreading – the moment when the universe might implode. She suddenly wished more than anything that she could go back to that moment with Dawn in their little rented house. Buffy should never have been so impulsive when she learned that Spike had died without telling her he was alive again. She wished she could take it all back because now the truth was coming out, and this was the worst possible outcome of the spell she’d convinced Dawn to cast. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to say the wish out loud. Buffy closed her eyes. “Yes, it’s true.” Her voice was so small that she almost couldn’t hear herself speak. 

 

“What did you do?” Willow asked with hurt etched into her words. 

 

Buffy opened her eyes as she hugged her arms to her stomach. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what to say, but her thoughts were too jumbled to pull one out and start. Finally, she just rolled with her gut and out poured a rush of words. She only hoped she didn’t reveal too much about the future because even if the universe imploded, she could say that she had done her best to prevent it. “Dawn has powers. She’s my sister, but she’s also a mystical key. She discovered that she can go back in time. I convinced her to take us back.”

 

“But why?” Xander didn’t sound angry – just baffled like this was another huge ocean wave of betrayal that he couldn’t fathom.

 

“For love.” Buffy owned that now. “To convince the person I love that he was loved, so that even if. . . even if the same things happened, he would know.”

 

There was stunned silence, and Buffy felt a wave of dizziness like she might faint. She refused to steady herself by holding onto the kitchen sink and instead swayed a little. 

 

“Buffy, that’s really, really dangerous,” Willow said – all with the concern. The worry lines were prominent between her eyes. 

 

“For Spike,” Xander said bitterly, gripping the edge of the counter. “You did all this for Spike.”

 

“Yes, she could have destroyed the world as you know it,” Anya said almost triumphantly. “Maybe D’Hoffryn should recruit you.” 

 

“But it wasn’t for vengeance,” Buffy protested. 

 

Anya snorted. “You’re messing with forces you don’t even understand. You and your sister may have caused a complete dimensional rupture. You may be the reason for this whole evil gaining a foothold into this world. Not some spell we did.” 

 

“All for an evil vampire.” Xander shook his head. “Who are you and what did you do with Buffy?”

 

Buffy’s temper flared. “I’m not the reason for the ‘evil gaining a foothold!’ The spell you cast to bring me back is the reason. And Dawn and I are doing our best not to change the timeline. Just make sure Spike knows he’s cared about. We’ve learned really quickly that changing too much leads to badness.”

 

“You should have thought of that before you cast the spell. At least vengeance demons use that type of magic responsibly.” Anya lifted her chin with pride. 

 

Xander’s head was still going back and forth in disbelief. “I guess we don’t matter in this future of yours.”

 

“But you do. All of you do!” Buffy’s eyes found Willow’s, and she implored her friend, “Tell me you don’t understand.”

 

Tears sheened Willow’s eyes. “You were going to let me take complete blame for all of your problems when you have just as much of an issue misusing magic to manipulate others as me.”

 

Before Buffy could respond, the front door banged open, and everyone jumped and spun toward the sound. There was the brief sound of pounding feet, and Warren appeared in the entry to the kitchen with two guns raised. His face was red, his mouth a slash of hot anger. Without a word, he opened fire – the sound not quite like disjointed firecrackers. As the first bullet hit Buffy, she realized that here, at last, was the universe asserting itself.


	33. Chapter Seventeen, The Universe Asserts Itself - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: There is talk of bullet wounds, violence, and blood in this chapter. 
> 
> Special thank you to amidtheflowers who corrected all my wayward conjunctions with aplomb! What would I do without her in this highly emotional chapter?
> 
> The mood board is fantastic...badwolfjedi did a wonderful job. See her note at the end about the board.

_Dawn_

For some reason, on the way up the stairs with Tara’s sleeve silky beneath her fingertips, Dawn couldn’t bring herself to go into her mom’s old room – Tara and Willow’s room. Dawn led the blonde witch into her room instead. She let go of Tara as soon as they were inside, and she backed up until she plopped down on her bed.

 

Ducking her head under the crossbody strap of her brightly-colored leather bag, Tara let it drop to the floor as she searched the room for something. Her eyes lit on the chair in the corner, and Dawn watched as Tara removed a stack of clean, folded laundry and set them atop the dresser. Dragging the chair closer to Dawn, she sat down and leaned forward, laying her head atop her hands.

 

“How do you think it’s going to go?” Dawn asked, turning over and resting her cheek on the back of her hand. 

 

“Terrible,” Tara said quickly and without a trace of irony.

 

“Probably a good prediction.” Dawn sighed and flicked some hair over her shoulder to prevent it falling over her face. “How will we know when it’s okay to go down?”

 

Tara pushed her lips to one side and gave an unsure lift of her shoulder. “Probably when we don’t hear any yelling for a while?” 

 

Dawn emitted a small laugh. “Or door slams.” She paused. “I’m nervous for them.”

 

“Me, too.”

 

“If I haven’t said it, I’m so glad that you and Willow are fixing things. . . have fixed things?” Dawn hadn’t let herself get too giddy this time lest she jinx it. She shivered at the memory of the awful end of that awful day that had started so well. Thank god Warren was locked up this time around. 

 

Tara bit her lip thoughtfully. “Fixing. I think we’re still in the fixing stage of things. We’ll see how things go in England with the coven. I-I have to sort out my own beliefs about magic. Seeing Willow go through this. . . experiencing her go through this. . .” Tara closed her eyes briefly. “It’s brought up a lot for me from my own past.”

 

Dawn remembered Tara’s father and her other relatives. Dawn was never super clear whether they were cousins or siblings. “The stuff with your family.” 

 

Tara gave a small nod. “Yeah. Their power over me. I-I had to find my voice with them and never really did all that well at it. This is so similar. . . but different. I’m having to – ”

 

“Figure it out all over again? You aren’t sure how you ended up in the same place?” 

 

Tara reached over and gave Dawn a gentle shove and a smile. “You’re pretty smart for a teenager. People should listen to you sometimes.”

 

Dawn grinned. “They really should, huh? And same goes for you.”

 

“I’m glad to be back here with you,” Tara said so offhandedly that Dawn was shaken.

 

Dawn found herself blinking rapidly to keep tears at bay. Tara had no idea what those words meant. Dawn smiled crookedly at Tara. “I’m glad you are, too.” 

 

Tara reached out to touch Dawn’s hand. “You know I meant what I said, right?” 

 

“What do you mean?” Dawn, past-Dawn, and Tara had had so many more conversations this go-round that Dawn had no idea what Tara was referencing. 

 

“I’m always, always here for you. No matter what happens with me and Willow. Whether she and I fix things or not. And just because I’m going to England now doesn’t mean that I’m not coming back.”

 

It was practically the same speech Dawn had gotten the day Tara took her out for the movie-sugar marathon. Only this time, Dawn was less desperate for Tara to not go away. “I know. You’re family.”

 

Tara smiled crookedly. “I am. And you are.”

 

There was a sudden sharp, clipped sound of what Dawn’s mind identified as firecrackers. No, not firecrackers. Gunfire. 

 

Without another thought, Dawn leaped off the bed, dodging around Tara even as the witch called, “Dawnie, wait!” 

 

Dawn was halfway down the stairs with Tara on her heels when Dawn came up short. She blinked once as her brain tried to register what she was seeing. Warren! It was Warren out of jail. This was wrong. Really wrong.

 

“Hey!” Dawn cried before she could stop herself. 

 

Too late, her eyes landed on the darkness of the guns in his hands. Tara was pulling on her arm, and Dawn heard Spike right behind them. 

 

Warren jumped at Dawn’s shout and haphazardly shot the guns up the stairs before throwing open the front door. 

 

Dawn felt pain radiate through her arm and then her thigh, and as she collapsed, Warren darted outside with fear in his eyes. She vaguely heard Spike’s vampire roar but then, felt strong arms lifting her before she could tumble down the stairs.

 

Somehow she ended up in her room, and in a moment, Spike returned with Tara in his arms. Dawn struggled to sit up, trying to see if Tara was moving. All Dawn could see was red blooming on her friend’s shirt. 

 

“Nibblet, lie down,” Spike commanded, his ridges and fangs prominent. 

 

Dawn felt dizzy as a haze of stars muddled her vision. Through the fog, she saw more scarlet on her own clothing. Frightened, she quickly complied, asking, “T-tara?” 

 

Tara moaned softly in response, and relief shot through Dawn’s chest. Tara wasn’t dead yet. 

 

In her peripheral vision, Dawn saw stuffed animals and a comforter flying and heard a shredding sound like something being torn into strips. She vaguely wondered what Spike was tearing up. She hoped it wasn’t her favorite blanket. 

 

Spike was kneeling by her in the next moment, and she squirmed to sit up again. “Hold still, Bit.” 

 

Dawn winced as he tore her shirt sleeve and probed the wound. She cried out in pain at his touch, but he moved down to her leg next, which felt heavy and soaking wet. He jarred her leg as he removed the fabric around her wound, and she bit her cheek hard to keep from screaming. He slid a strip of her blue floral sheets – blue like her eyes and his – under her leg. She braced herself as she saw him loop one end around the other, but she couldn’t hold back the scream when he tied it tight, creating a tourniquet. She thumped back to the carpet, her head hitting the ground, and she blacked out for a moment. 

 

The next thing Dawn knew, Spike was working on Tara, ripping away her shirt – her lovely, cornflower blue shirt – and she writhed in agony. He murmured, “Hold on, Little Dove.” 

 

Dawn glimpsed him wadding up a strip of her sheets and pressing it to the wound in Tara’s now bare stomach. He moved a blood-covered hand to Dawn’s, transferring her hand to cover his other one that was pressing into Tara’s injury, which was decidedly lower than in the other timeline. The bullet hadn’t hit her heart. 

 

“Can you push and hold?” he asked with urgency, blinking golden yellow eyes at her.

 

Gritting her teeth, Dawn rolled over, willing herself not to lose consciousness. With all her strength, she pushed down hard on Spike’s hand, and he eased out from under hers, his head already lifting toward the stairs.

 

“Buffy?” Dawn managed, her voice hoarse and edged with panic. She couldn’t lose her sister. What would happen to them if they died in the middle of the spell? Was it game over? That couldn’t happen. Not now.

 

Spike nodded, caressing her cheek before he bounded to his feet and ran. Dawn barely heard his feet on the staircase, and she wondered vaguely if he was flying to reach her sister. Vampires could move quickly if required, and it was required. She breathed a little harder as another wave of dizziness overcame her, but she managed to ride through the pain and lightheadedness by focusing on the blessed rise and fall of Tara’s chest. This was different; she wouldn’t have to sit for hours with Tara’s cooling body, so she wouldn’t be alone. 

 

“D-Dawn?” Tara’s voice was thin and reedy – almost far away. 

 

“I-I’m here.” Dawn scrounged up the energy to explain. “Warren shot us. Spike helped. . . is helping.” 

 

“Oh, good.” Tara’s words were fainter, and Dawn’s heart raced.

 

Dawn took a few measured breaths until the anxiety was less. “We’re going to be okay.” She had no idea if they would be, but reassuring Tara gave her a glimmer of hope. 

 

Tara turned her head, looking down at Dawn. “Ph-phone?” 

 

Warm liquid surged around Dawn’s weakening hand, and she summoned her energy and pushed harder, earning a hiss of pain from Tara. “Buffy’s room.” The only phone upstairs was in Buffy’s room now that their mother had passed away. “There’s no way I can get it.”

 

Tara grimaced. “N-no.” 

 

Confusion made Dawn’s heart skip a beat. “What?”

 

“P-purse. Cell ph – ” Tara coughed, and it sounded wet. Her eyes closed with the effort. 

 

“Oh!” Dawn lifted her head, waited until her vision cleared, and spied Tara’s bag next to the nightstand. Dawn’s stomach sank with her renewed hopelessness. There was absolutely no way she could get to it. 

 

Tara’s body tensed, and her left arm moved.

 

“Tara. Wait.”

 

Tara didn’t listen. She raised her arm with excruciating slowness, so Dawn could adjust the pressure on Tara’s wound with the shifting of her muscles. Dawn couldn’t see but heard Tara’s fingers scrabbling on the carpet, searching for her target, pausing for several seconds before moving again. 

 

An eternity seemed to pass of starting and stopping and starting again. Finally, Tara’s break was longer than the others. Oh, god. At least, she was still breathing.

 

With each second that passed that Tara didn’t move, Dawn felt more and more hopeless. Tara was dying. There was no way Dawn could get help, and she had no idea what was happening downstairs. No noise was very, very bad. She wondered where Spike was and what was happening with Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Anya. She couldn’t think too much about who might be dead because that way led her to paralysis. Dawn hated this, hated every moment of this. She and Buffy should never ever have done this. This was their fault. This was Dawn’s fault. She was going to lose everyone she ever cared about all because she had regrets and wanted to exercise her new powers to ease her own pain. Maybe she should be the one going to England for rehabilitation. Her cheeks were wet, and she hadn’t even realized she’d started crying. 

 

With a small jerk, Tara started reaching again – her fingers reaching and straining until Dawn felt her latch onto something and pull it down, down, down, until it was at her side. 

 

Dawn caught sight of the familiar colorful pattern. “You did it,” she breathed.

 

Tara made a small snorting noise as she ceased moving again. The rise and fall of her chest changed again, but Dawn had no idea what that meant.

 

After what felt like another forever, Dawn decided that it was up to her. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes with the back of her wrist. Careful to keep her anchoring hand in place, she grabbed at Tara’s purse with the other, snagging the leather with her third attempt. Fumbling with the latch and working around her pain, Dawn thumbed the magnetic clasp open and searched with a slick hand through the contents. Her fingers slid over the pebbled leather of her friend’s wallet and felt the smooth surface of a slim pen before finding the rounded edge of a cell phone. Yahtzee. 

 

Holding tight to the device, Dawn fell back, flipping open the screen. To her relief, the device was on. Her fingers left red on the nine and one, but she managed to dial 9-1-1. 

 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” came the almost immediate answer. 

 

Before Dawn could muster the energy to say a single word, she heard sirens in the distance, sirens that got louder and louder by the second. With help on the way, Dawn’s body gave in to the pain and loss of blood, and she found that she couldn’t say anything even with repeated entreaties from the emergency operator. Dawn hung on long enough for the sirens to reach her house, for boots to hit the stairs, and for people to enter the room. 

 

The deep voice of an EMT said with gentleness, “You can let go, ma’am. You did good. Real good.” 

 

Dawn inanely thought that she was too young to be a ma’am but realized he was right. She was old. Really old. Ancient. Then, she did as the man said and let go, giving in to the darkness of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badwolfjedi's note: She said to notice how she moved Tara's wound in the mood board above. Pretty clever bit of editing there! My eyes skipped over it the first time I saw it!
> 
> Sandy S.'s personal note, so skip if you don't want to know this. Trigger warning here, too. 
> 
> Seeing Red was an incredibly difficult episode for me to watch when it aired. Not just because of the AR scene but because the way Tara died and the way Buffy almost does. It's how my grandfather and his brother were murdered by a neighbor in the morning in front of the neighbor's house. I was 16, and I really relate so much with Dawn in that episode because although I wasn't there, and my parents shielded me from a lot of details, I had a big imagination and so many times over the years, I've imagined what that must have been like. SR was kind of like seeing my imaginings come to life, and Tara's death came so out of the blue for me. So, these last two chapters were very emotional for me to write and probably part of the reason I was scared to put them out there. 
> 
> My grandfather had blue, blue eyes like Spike and Dawn. He was in the navy, and I have his flag. I have the painting he did of the fields in his backyard with horses. And he was always, always supportive of me and proud of my writing. On a positive note, this is a story about healing, and a piece of who I became was because of what happened. I now have the privilege of helping other teens - they're the population I love working with the most. And hopefully part of the healing to come in this story will be informed by how people work through their traumas, and the confusing mess of emotions people feel.


	34. Chapter Eighteen, Aftermath - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the likes and comments and for hanging in there with the last two chapters! Lots more emotion to come...
> 
> Amidtheflowers is an amazing beta...thanks to her, I wrangled my tenses!
> 
> And Badwolfjedi's mood board is so emotional for this chapter...the still images of the hospital equipment (wow) and the image of Spike all bruised up...just perfect.

_Dawn_

Dawn’s brain was sluggish and foggy like she was standing on the edge of a chasm between sleep and wakefulness, unable to see the way across. The room came into focus slowly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she discovered that the world around her was alien. She wasn’t at home, and there were railings surrounding her. Wherever she was smelled of cleaning fluid and reminded her distinctly of when her mother was sick. In a million years, Dawn would never forget that smell. That smell was associated with the sharp edge of anxiety, swooping hope, and plunging sorrow. 

 

Dawn was in the hospital. 

 

Her leg felt heavy but pain-free maybe due to the IV in her hand, which she assumed fed her pain medication and probably antibiotics. As her other senses returned, she realized that she desperately needed to pee. She peered up at the machines she was hooked up to and decided that she could get out of bed without alerting anyone. 

 

She would pee and then find out what was happening. Her heart skipped in her chest as fear rolled through her. She needed to know how everyone was. They better all be alive, or Dawn was going to crawl back into the bed, hide under the covers, and never come out.

 

After figuring out how to drop one rail, she gingerly stood to her feet, leaning heavily on the IV pole and her uninjured leg just in case. With excruciating slowness, she hobbled to the bathroom with her makeshift crutch. Once at her first destination, she peed like the pee-champion she was without looking at her bandaged leg, somehow managed to wash her hands without falling over, and abandoned the room to follow the warm yellow light that beckoned her into the hallway.

 

Luckily, the hallway was empty and dimly lit, probably for nighttime, which helped Dawn feel less exposed. As she was making sure her very drafty hospital gown was closed, she heard a familiar male voice. It was Xander, and he was talking with someone. 

 

Nervous for a multitude of reasons, Dawn crept quietly closer toward Xander and his companion. Anya. Anya was with him. 

 

Straining to make out what was being said, Dawn stopped short when she saw someone ahead. A young nurse dressed in hospital scrubs was sitting in what looked like the nurses’ station. Luckily, she was focused on her computer, and as Dawn watched, the nurse got up and headed into another room. 

 

Dawn gathered up her courage and kept moving forward, something keeping her from bursting into what looked to be the edge of a waiting room area. Feeling exhausted and a bit lightheaded, she propped herself up against the wall and listened. 

 

“What time are the ICU visiting hours?” Xander sounded antsy and pressured like he wanted to take action but couldn’t. There was also a rattling noise that Dawn couldn’t identify.

 

“The nurse told you five minutes ago.” It was Anya, and she sounded just as on edge. “And you wrote it down.” 

 

ICU wasn’t good, but something still held Dawn back from bursting forward and demanding answers. 

 

“Want me to get snacks?” Xander asked. 

 

Dawn heard a wrapper crinkling, and Anya replied, “You’ve already eaten three bags of chips and two candy bars, including mine.”

 

“I can go get you another one. I have plenty of money. For all the good it does me right now.” Xander’s voice cracked at the end.

 

Anya sighed. “You just need to sit still for a minute. You’re driving me crazy with the constant movement.” 

 

“I can’t help it, An. I don’t think I can be in a Zen space right now.”

 

Anya’s tone softened. “And that’s understandable, but maybe try to at least not shake your leg so much.” 

 

The rattling noise ceased, and Dawn realized it must have been Xander’s leg motion. “If I forget to thank you, thank you.”

 

“You’ve already thanked me, Xander. Any more times, and it just loses meaning.”

 

“I disagree. I don’t think that I can thank you enough for diverting some of the bullets with your. . . powers. For teleporting for help and getting the ambulance there faster. There would be no one in ICU clinging to life if it wasn’t for you. I might not even be alive.” 

 

Dawn’s eyes widened at this tidbit of information. 

 

“So, are you saying that you’re okay with me being a demon again?” The vengeance demon sounded so hopeful.

 

“Oh, An.” Xander was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m glad you’re my wife. You’re still the woman I fell in love with. I. . . I’m not sure I’m okay with you being a demon.”

 

“Then, you’re not okay with who I am. W-who I’ve been for far longer than I’ve been human.” Dawn could almost picture Anya closing off – crossing her legs and folding her arms. Dawn’s heart ached for her. 

 

Xander’s next words were gentler. “I love you in whatever form you come in even if I’m not okay with it, and you don’t even know how glad I am that you weren’t hurt. I don’t even know if you could be hurt by bullets, but – ”

 

“Bullets can harm me, but they don’t generally kill vengeance demons. Same as bullets hitting vampires.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Hey,” another familiar voice said, sounding rough around the edges but distinctly British. Spike conveyed so much in that one syllable. He sounded exhausted and. . . Dawn’s brain wasn’t working all that well, but he sounded not right.

 

“Where have you been?” Xander was irritated and almost exasperated. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

 

“And you look terrible,” Anya added more out of curiosity.

 

Dawn felt the urge to announce herself, but she held back again, waiting to hear what Spike had to say. 

 

“Where do you bloody think I’ve been? Went after Warren. You know that.” Spike’s voice was scratchy, and he coughed. 

 

“So? Where is he?” Xander’s anger was growing.

 

“Xander! Stop being so mean. He was helping.” 

 

“An. He’s the reason we’re in this mess.” 

 

Dawn inched forward. She had to see even if they saw her, even if she wasn’t ready for them to see her. Somehow, the IV pole didn’t clatter onto the wall, and she didn’t trip over her feet because of her bum leg, which was starting to ache. When she saw Spike, it was like her pain dissipated. 

 

His hair was a mess, curls askew and not in the casual, sexy vampire way that her sister liked. The skin that was exposed was charred in places like he’d been standing too long in the sun, and he was hunched like he was in a great deal of physical pain. Dawn worried that he might collapse. She’d never seen him like that even after Glory tortured him. 

 

Anya did indeed have her arms and legs crossed, and she was drawn away from Xander even though they were sitting in adjacent chairs. To give Xander credit, he was pale and rumpled, too. Blood stained his clothing, and his arm was in a sling. 

 

Spike closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “What do you mean that I’m the reason we’re in this mess? Seems to me that Warren bloke was the one who broke into the house guns blazing. And yeah, he’s human. Humans do horrific things, too.” 

 

“I know that,” Xander snapped and then he hesitated, changing tacks. “Did you find him?”

 

Spike coughed. “I did.” 

 

“And?” Xander asked expectantly.

 

Spike’s hand clenched. “He’s dead.” 

 

“Good.” Xander’s eyes blazed with the intensity of the word. 

 

Anya tilted her head to one side and stared at Spike like she saw right through him. “How?”

 

Spike stepped back in surprise. “What do you mean?”

 

“How did you kill him with the chip in your head?”

 

Dawn’s heart rose into her throat, her lips parting. Spike had killed Warren?

 

Spike flinched; Dawn wasn’t sure whether it was out of emotional or physical pain. Maybe. . . probably it was both. “Does it matter? The git is gone. Gave me a hell of a migraine but didn’t kill me. Guess the scientists didn’t factor in desperate times. The details don’t matter. What matters is he won’t be coming back. Where’s Buffy? Where’s Dawn? Are they alive? God, they better be alive.” 

 

“They’re alive,” Anya reassured him, and Dawn felt so much relief at this news that the weight of it made her almost sink to the ground. “Dawn’s here. On this floor. And Buffy, Tara, and Willow are in ICU.”

 

Xander shook his head. “You don’t know.” He glanced at Anya and gestured at Spike with his good hand. “He doesn’t know.”

 

Her hand going to the nape of her neck, Anya ducked her head and said in sotto voce, “Now isn’t the time, Xander.” It was ironic – Anya calling Xander on his timing.

 

Xander’s voice was tight with resentment. “And why the hell not? I don’t think we need any more secrets out there. Obviously, that leads to consequences that aren’t great for any of us.” 

 

Spike gritted his teeth again. “Spit it out already, Harris. I’m not a bleeding delicate flower.”

 

“Buffy cast a spell. Well, Buffy and Dawn cast a spell.”

 

Spike blinked in surprise. “They did? What does that have to do with me?” 

 

“Buffy and Dawn traveled back in time to reassure you that they love you.” The bitterness in Xander’s voice was sour and clipped. “God knows why. That’s why there’s this disturbance in the Force. That’s why there’s more evil coming. Bigger than Warren ever thought about being.”

 

“What are you going on about?” Spike swayed, and Dawn seriously considered that he might collapse onto the hospital waiting room floor.

 

“Magic always has consequences. Didn’t you tell me that once before right after we brought Buffy back?” 

 

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen any older Summers sisters gallivanting about.”

 

Anya sighed, and Dawn had a feeling it wasn’t about Spike’s lack of understanding. “That’s because they’re in their old bodies. They took over. Only they aren’t there all the time.”

 

“What does that mean?” 

 

Xander continued with the hostility. “It means, Sherlock, that sometimes they’re in the driver’s seat, and sometimes they’re not.” Dawn wasn’t sure how he knew this, but it was fair to say that either Anya or Buffy told him. “It’s essentially like mind-fucking themselves over and over again. Somehow, they thought you were a thing worth loving. And you were judging us for using dark magic to bring Buffy back. Well, now you can judge them, too.”

 

“Xander Harris,” Anya protested. “Lay off. This is hard enough. We don’t know enough about the spell they cast to go that far.”

 

“But you were the one going on about how they were ‘fools’ for messing with time travel and timelines. That’s it. I’m done.” Xander pushed to his feet. “I’m getting a snack. An, want anything?”

 

Anya just stared at him.

 

Spike put his hand out as Xander tried to walk by, blocking his movement without the intent to harm him. “You won’t leave this conversation unfinished.”

 

Xander pushed Spike’s hand away. “Why not?”

 

Anya sank back into the chair, staring off into space. “When the going gets tough, all he does is run.” 

 

Xander cast Anya a wounded glance before his face hardened again. “You know, Spike. It won’t really matter. Any of it. Because no matter which Buffy is in control when she wakes up, she won’t want anything to do with you because you killed a person. A human being. It’s her job to protect humans even when they do stupid, horrible things. And whatever love she has for you? It’ll be gone in a flash when she finds out what you’ve done and how the chip in your head that keeps you from murdering other people doesn’t work anymore. There’s nothing between you and going back to murdering for jollies. And that won’t fly with Buffy. She couldn’t even bring herself to kill Ben.” 

 

Spike winced, but before he could respond, Xander stalked past them. 

 

“I’m done here. I’m getting a candy bar,” he announced. 

 

From where she was slouched, Anya turned her head to one side. “He’s right, you know. Buffy won’t like that you killed someone. They all care a lot about that. Preserving human life. The soulless thing. And that’s not going to change.”

 

“They care about you being a demon again,” Spike said with certainty.

 

Anya glared but not at Spike. “Of course, they do. You were in on their little intervention with me. You’re not stupid. You know. Look at how they treated you all summer before Buffy was back. You’re a lion on a leash. They can’t accept or condone anything that isn’t them because they don’t understand it. And because we’re demons, we get judged by a higher standard. Let’s not even talk about what will happen when Giles finds out and the Council gets involved. So, get ready for the shit show when they all wake up. If they wake up.”

 

“Buffy is that bad off?” Spike, of course, zeroed in on his loved ones.

 

Anya tempered her tone and gazed at Spike with sympathy. “She’s the least bad off of the three of them. Buffy’s strong. Her recovery time will be quicker.”

 

“And the Bit?” Dawn felt a chill go down her spine at Spike’s query. It was almost like he knew Dawn was listening in.

 

“She’s expected to make a full recovery. Then, you can confront her. Confrontation is their M.O. I’m sure you’ll have to get in line.”

 

“Where is she?” Dawn decided Spike didn’t know she was there.

 

“Who?”

 

“Dawn.”

 

“Down the hall.” 

 

Spike pivoted on his heel and stalked directly at Dawn, and she backpedaled, but before she could make a clean getaway, Spike was in front of her, his blue eyes swirling with emotion. Up close, he looked much worse than he had at even a short distance, and Dawn really didn’t know how he’d managed to get to the hospital after what his brain had just been through. He didn’t look angry with her – just worried. Without a word, he took her into his arms and gently hugged her. Dawn wasn’t sure if the gentleness was for her or because he was too injured to do more.

 

He whispered in her ear, “Pigeon, let’s get you back to bed. You don’t need to be standing.” 

 

Her eyes wide, she nodded and said a bit dumbly, “O-okay.”

 

Without another word, he slipped an arm around her waist and helped her back to her room and back onto the bed. Dawn wasn’t sure what to say to him, so she remained quiet.

 

As he pulled the covers up and over her injured leg, he said, “I don’t rightly know what they were going on about out there about spells and time travel, but I do know that I love you, and if I’ve done something in that other time to make you think otherwise. . . .” Dawn knew he was making a leap in the why they’d done it, but Spike wasn’t dumb. He closed his eyes before continuing. “Which you are you?” 

 

Dawn swallowed, her mouth dry. “Future me right now. And Buffy’s future her. We aren’t always together, but we are right now, and we haven’t been trying to mind rape ourselves. We’ve been trying to take care of past us.” 

 

“You didn’t know what would happen?” He was still being so kind to her, and she flashed back to the time when he’d helped her try to bring her mother back. He’d been protective of her then, even if he hadn’t thought it was a good idea. How anyone could think he couldn’t love without a soul was beyond Dawn’s comprehension. 

 

Dawn lowered her head and stared at her hands on top of the blanket. “No.” 

 

“And you can’t stop the spell?”

 

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “We’d have already done it once we saw what was happening. Once we knew the consequences.”

 

“Did I kill a human in this other timeline? Besides when I was with Dru.”

 

Dawn hesitantly shook her head in the negative.

 

Spike took a deep breath. “Right. Well.”

 

“She won’t care. Warren deserved it. Don’t listen to Xander.” Dawn firmly believed this – had believed it before when Warren had killed Tara. But Dawn also knew that Buffy cared. Had cared when Faith murdered people, when Buffy thought she’d killed Katrina. And Spike knew it, too.

 

Spike could tell she wasn’t sure because his eyebrows went together. He bent to kiss her forehead. “Gonna pay a visit to Big Sis. Check in on her.” 

 

Dawn gave him a pained, close-lipped smile. “I love you, Spike.”

 

“Love you, too, lil Bit. Rest up.” And then, he was gone. 

 

Tears welled and cascaded down Dawn’s cheeks as he left the room, and she almost wished the spell would take her away from this moment. But there was no whiff of cinnamon and no gut-wrenching tug. Instead, her insides felt torn up for an entirely different reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, Buffy...


	35. Chapter Eighteen, Aftermath - Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge hugs and thank you to amidtheflowers for helping me sort out this chapter. I think at times, I was as confused as Buffy waking up after being in ICU. Oh, boy. Hopefully, it reads properly. I re-read it many times and even changed some things from when amidtheflowers read it, so all mistakes are most definitely mine.
> 
> And omg, Badwolfjedi creates the best Spuffy boards. So evocative. The unique screencaps of Spike all bruised are from after his torture by Glory and are when he and Dawn are in a cave. Badwolfjedi made them herself.
> 
> One author note: I don't think ICU nurses are unobservant at all...Spike is just spouting off here.

_Buffy_

The thing that led Buffy back from the edge of unconsciousness was a simple touch – the simple act of a cool hand slipping into hers and squeezing. Her physical body tugged her back, begged her to stay in the land of rest and rapid healing, but she stubbornly resisted, forcing herself to focus on that touch and willing herself to reinforce the connection with a squeeze of her own. With massive effort, she managed to move two fingers and then a third. 

 

She was rewarded with the same fingers pressing back and the addition of a voice. “I’m here, pet. I don’t know how long I have. I may have snuck past a pair of bloody unobservant nurses to get in here outside of visiting hours. Fuck the rules and all that.”

 

Buffy laughed, but she was in a resistant cage because she couldn’t laugh out loud. Instead, she flicked a finger. 

 

There was silence for a moment, and Buffy almost panicked, thinking that maybe she was losing her ability to hear, too. Then, Spike said, “Glad you’re here with me. Your sis is okay. Just got a bullet in the leg. One grazed her arm. She’s fine. On another floor. Anya is whole. Xander took one in his arm, but the doves are pretty bad off. Not dead though. They’re both strong. I don’t think you’re going to lose the people you love. Not now anyway.” A thumb stroked the back of her hand. “You look like you feel more than a bit ropey, but I suppose I do, too. Not that I can check. Mirror. Vampire. No reflection.” There was a low sigh. “And you should know that I’ve done something, just like I know that you’ve done something. I don’t bloody well know what to make of either thing, but I do know that I love you.”

 

Buffy found more traction with her hand and squeezed Spike’s hand with a bit more gusto but not Slayer-level of gusto. Not yet. 

 

Spike picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “I know that you’re here with me. Your heart rate tells me so. Even if you can barely move your hand.” 

 

Her body’s needs continued to nip at the edges of her mind, but she was holding steady. His words were lyrical and gentle, and Buffy rode the wave of his voice to stay focused.

 

“Xander told me what you’ve done. You and the lil Bit. How you did it because you love me. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to make you need to or want to cast this kind of spell. Any other time, I’d be crowing about it. But given what’s happened, I don’t think I can. I don’t know how much of what’s happened has been a consequence of more magic. It was magic that brought you back from heaven, and magic that brought you back here to me. And while on principle I believe that using magic should be done judiciously if at all, Harris was right. You coming down those steps the night they brought you back was the best night of my life. I’m a selfish bloke. And I wouldn’t trade how things are now between us. Are they better this time around or worse? I can’t imagine worse. But I can’t imagine better either.” There was awe in that last sentence. 

 

Buffy could imagine worse – much worse. And maybe this was worse. She moved her hand again to let him know she was still there.

 

“And with how things have unfolded, I’ve done something. Something I’d wager I’d do again no matter the time.” He paused for several seconds and then said, “I’ve done something you wouldn’t approve of. Something I didn’t think I was capable of doing with this bit of technology wedged in my noggin. We come from different worlds as you said the other morning. As I know. And I want you to know that I’d do anything to stay in your world. You have me by the heartstrings. By the balls.” The last phrase was more amused than irritated. “Being love’s bitch, I’ll do whatever you need, so I can stay a part of that world.” Buffy felt cool lips on her forehead and then again on the back of her hand. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back. I’m not leaving you. Not for good. I can’t now. If what I’m doing is successful, there’ll be a change, but one that will ease your mind. Lighten your load. So you don’t have to make a choice between your world and mine.”

 

Buffy’s mind flitted back over Spike’s words as she tried to make sense out of what he was saying. Was he saying he was going somewhere? Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She didn’t want him to go; she didn’t want him to do that. Scrounging up her energy, she let out a sound that was far from words because something physical was lodged in her throat. Still. A moan was something. It communicated. She willed him to listen to her. 

 

“Heal fast, love. Your friends and sis. They’re going to need you, and you’re going to need them. Know I’m repeating myself, but I love you, pet. More than words can express.” 

 

When he let go of her hand, she wanted to scream at him to stay, but she’d used up all her energy. All that happened was a tear escaped over her cheek, and sorrow she couldn’t elucidate filled her heart. Suddenly, unconsciousness sounded better than reality, and she let go of her hold on wakefulness and slipped into a deep pool of dreams.

 

The first thing Buffy noticed when she woke again was how sore her throat was, how less held back her body felt, and how heavy her heart was. With little effort, she opened her eyes to discover that she was in a hospital room – an ordinary one and not ICU. 

 

The room was an ordinary hospital room with a calendar on one end and a whiteboard that no doubt announced the date, day of the week, and the current nurse. She remembered from when Mom was in the hospital. Dawn was camped out on a neighboring hospital bed with the blankets up to her chin, but she wasn’t asleep.

 

“Hey,” Dawn said with a smile in her voice. “How are you feeling?”

 

Buffy opened her mouth and croaked out, “Not sure. Throat hurts.”

 

“You sound like a frog.”

 

Buffy wrinkled her nose and swallowed past the pain. “Thanks.”

 

Dawn laughed a little and then said, “I’m glad you’re okay. You’ve been sleeping since they brought you down from the ICU. The doctor said you’re stable. And we’re sharing because apparently, the hospital is kinda full, but I’m glad you’re here because I hate hospitals ever since Mom.”

 

“Me, too.” Talking was a little less raw the more Buffy spoke. “How is. . . everyone else?”

 

“Willow and Tara are still in the ICU but just for one more day for observation. Then, we can visit them. In case that wasn’t clear, they’re going to be okay. Xander and Anya are okay. They just left for some rest. I actually think Anya is staying at Xander’s place for now even with things the way they are.” Dawn left Spike out, and Buffy let her. 

 

“Thank god everyone’s alive and as okay as they can be.” Buffy hadn’t lost everyone. “Are you still. . . you?” She wasn’t sure what to make of Dawn’s choice to leave behind the baby animal metaphor.

 

“I’m me. You?” 

 

“I’m me.” 

 

Dawn sighed and shifted under the covers. “I guess that won’t matter anymore because everyone knows about us and soon our past selves will, too.” 

 

“They all know. Even Spike.” Saying his name out loud was more agonizing than Buffy thought it would be. He was gone just like before, and the emotions that came with him leaving were muddled together with the past, present, and future of him not being here. She wasn’t ready for him to be gone again. The deep aching well of depression threatened, and she was half-tempted to give in to the lure and embrace it with open arms. “Spike’s gone.”

 

“H-he is?” A heartbeat passed. “He’s coming back this time,” she said stubbornly as if she was reassuring herself. “It’s totally different now. He knows we love him.”

 

“He came to see me. I couldn’t talk, but he said he did something.” Buffy had no idea what he’d done, but it was enough to make him go the way he had before. She couldn’t bring herself to face what she suspected he was doing now. 

 

Dawn took some time to respond, and when she finally did, her words were gentle. “He did what he’s been saying he’d do for us. . . . He killed Warren for trying to kill all of us.”

 

Buffy’s mind was swept up in a sudden maelstrom of thoughts and emotions that she couldn’t make sense of. She plucked one question from the rush. “H-how?” 

 

“No idea, but Buffy, he looked terrible. He was kinda burned like he’d been in the sun, and there was something about his eyes. He wasn’t right. He didn’t tell me much, but I don’t think what he did was easy. Xander and Anya. . . well, Xander confronted him on it. He said there’d be no way he’d be accepted by. . .” Dawn trailed off, and Buffy knew she was leaving something out.

 

“What else did Xander say?” 

 

“You don’t want to know,” Dawn whispered.

 

Buffy summoned courage, insisting, “Dawn. I do. We can’t keep things secret from each other. Not ever. Especially now.” 

 

“Okay.” Dawn sounded beyond exhausted. “He’s really struggling with Anya being a vengeance demon. How did that go when you guys confronted Anya? I mean, I know you guys did.”

 

Buffy tried to think back to right before Warren showed up. “We did. It didn’t go well. And I was right about Anya. . . and Hallie figuring out the time change thing.” Guilt washed over Buffy. She shouldn’t have ever asked her sister to cast that spell. Willow and Tara almost hadn’t made it, and Buffy and Dawn could have died. “And the rest is a blur. Warren showed up. With guns.”

 

“Oh. More than one this time. He shot me and Tara on the stairs. Spike helped us before he went after you. We wouldn’t have made it.” 

 

Love for the vampire filled Buffy’s heart. “That doesn’t surprise me. He loves you.”

 

“I know.” Dawn’s voice cracked on the second word. Her tone was edged with sorrow when she continued. “Tara’s stomach was bad. I had to hold it closed, so she wouldn’t bleed out. But want to know what I couldn’t stop thinking about?”

 

“What?” Buffy whispered.

 

“How I was so relieved that the bullet missed her heart. That she was still warm. A-and when the blood kept coming and I had trouble holding it closed, I was grateful because t-that meant her heart was still beating.” Buffy saw Dawn partially curl up next to her and wished she could hold her sister like she had that night when she had found Dawn watching over Tara’s corpse so she wouldn’t be alone. Dawn swallowed like she was trying to regroup. “Spike saved my leg, too. What happened when he came downstairs?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t remember a lot.” Not even how the bullets felt. “Just Spike rolling me, and Xander with a phone. All the blood. I-I couldn’t see Willow. Anya teleported for help. I think.” Buffy closed her eyes. The silence from Willow’s direction had been the eeriest. Xander’s voice had been far away and panicked – the same as before when Warren shot her in the backyard. It was not something she thought about much the last two years, but now that it was happening again, she considered that maybe she should have. It was one of many traumas she didn’t really have time to stop and process. Not with Willow killing Warren and then trying to destroy the world. Then, there’d been the First Evil and other resulting badness. “I don’t like guns.”

 

“Me neither.” Dawn was as firm as Buffy was.

 

The missile launcher had been different, but guns were taboo among Slayers and demons. Giles had taught Buffy about a lot of weapons but never guns. “But maybe I should at least know more about them.” 

 

“Maybe.” 

 

Buffy remembered something. “What did Xander say to Spike after he said he killed Warren?”

 

Dawn didn’t hedge this time. “Xander told Spike about how we time-traveled for him because we love him. But Xander said it in a not-very-nice way.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“And that we’re not always in the driver’s seat. I think Spike was shocked.” 

 

“Oh.” Buffy was quickly becoming repeat-o girl.

 

Dawn hesitated. “But Spike wasn’t mad at us. He seemed more worried that he’d done something to cause us to come back in time.”

 

“Oh, no.” Buffy felt sick to her stomach. 

 

“Buffy, we’ll explain to him when we see him again. We’ll tell him that we felt guilty.”

 

Buffy closed her eyes. She couldn’t go there yet, so she shifted the conversation. “The chip. . . it doesn’t work on me.”

 

Dawn rolled with the change. “And it started malfunctioning a year later.”

 

“Think it stopped working earlier this time around?” Buffy worried with the inside of her cheek. 

 

“Maybe it stopped working right. But do we really know what would happen if Spike killed a human?” Dawn had obviously been mulling things over.

 

Buffy thought back to everything she had learned at the Initiative and everything Riley had told her about the chip. “Good point. I don’t think that was ever clear.”

 

“I thought it would kill him. But I guess not?”

 

“Maybe it was intended to kill him, but Spike is tough?”

 

“That would fit. We can’t really seem to get rid of him.” Dawn sounded a little amused. 

 

“What did Xander say again when Spike told him that he’d killed Warren?” Buffy kept going back to that because there was more. She knew it.

 

The mirth dropped out of Dawn’s voice. “He told Spike that you wouldn’t forgive him for killing a human, given how you felt about Faith killing someone. And I guess about how you felt when you thought you’d killed Katrina. And Xander didn’t say it, but I thought about how you didn’t want to kill Ben and how you feel about human justice being dealt with by humans. Which, by the way, I admire. You have to have lines somewhere in your job.”

 

This information threw Buffy for a complete loop again, and she struggled with being clear in her thoughts and feelings on all of it. But there was one thing she did know. Her words were clipped and hard. “Xander is making big assumptions. He should let me decide what I think and feel. And does nobody remember that I almost killed Faith, who is a human, to save Angel? Not my finest moment, and I don’t know if I’d do it again, but I see the grey! I see the grey here.” 

 

“Don’t fuss at me, Buffy. I know you do. And I don’t think it was just Xander leading Spike down the path that you’d reject him. Spike was doing a fair bit of worrying about your reaction on his own. Anya said stuff, too, which was probably more about her and Xander than anything else.” 

 

Buffy thought that Dawn was likely right about Xander and Anya’s problems being tied to their reaction to Spike’s admission. “You’ve been thinking a lot about this.”

 

“Nothing to do here. It’s been a few days.” Dawn’s sheets rustled as she moved. “I think Spike is going to get his soul again. I mean, I think that’s where he went.”

 

Buffy opened her eyes. “Yeah. I think so, too. ” 

 

“All of this bad stuff happening. It’s my fault. It’s so much worse this time.” Dawn began to sob – the sound tearing at Buffy’s heart.

 

“Dawnie. Can you move over here?” Buffy patted the space on the bed next to her, wincing in pain as she slid over a little. 

 

“O-okay.” Dawn slowly and gingerly made her way across the room, almost tripping on a wire or two before reaching her destination. She sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her hand as she eased next to Buffy. 

 

The sisters clung to one another as much as they could given the state they were in, and with Dawn next to her, some of Buffy’s emotional anguish eased. 

 

“Listen to me,” Buffy said. “This is not all your fault. You can take a piece. I can take a piece. But there is something going on within the spell that’s out of our control. We can’t help that the world, the universe, the cosmos, whatever seems to be trying to assert itself. And I want you to remember that even within all that we’re doing, everyone around us – including our past selves –is in charge of what they do with what’s happening. No amount of beating ourselves up will change things. We can only try our best moving forward.” 

 

Dawn trembled, her words filled to the brim with uncertainty. “How can you be so confident?”

 

Buffy wasn’t confident . . . not really. “Because you need me to be right now.”

 

Dawn huffed. “What did you just tell me about keeping secrets?”

 

“I’m not being secretive. Promise. I’m terrified of what’s going to happen next. It really helps when you’re here with me. And Dawnie, I’m so glad you’re still alive.” Buffy was terrified of losing Willow and Tara. She was terrified that the universe would take Spike from her earlier than before. She was terrified that she’d lost her friends, and she was terrified that her past self would fall into a spiral of depression again. If she let herself get swept up in it, Buffy knew she’d fall apart, which wouldn’t help at all. She was determined to face what was to come. 

 

“I’m glad you’re alive, too.” Dawn kissed Buffy’s cheek. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, what are we going to do?”

 

“I have no idea.” Buffy really hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Heal? Do physical therapy? Help our friends? Look for Spike? Talk with Giles?” 

 

“All of the above? Lots of conversations. And please dear god, one step at a time because I feel tired just thinking about it.” Dawn gazed up at the ceiling for a while before adding, “We should write our past selves a letter. Since whatever magic this spell does prevents them from knowing future stuff and since we can’t talk to them.” 

 

“Won’t the universe try to stop us?”

 

“I don’t think so. Not if we don’t share what the future is. Or was.”

 

“I like that, Dawnie.” Buffy bit her lip. “When should we write the letters?”

 

“How about now? Before we’re taken away from each other again.” Dawn gripped Buffy’s arm as if she might disappear any second.

 

“Good idea.” Buffy frowned. “How do I sit up around here? And where are the lights?”

 

Dawn giggled. “I’ve got you covered. And I know how to order food.”

 

“Oh my god. How did you know I was starving?”

 

“Your stomach just growled at me.”

 

Despite the gravity of their situation, Buffy grinned, suddenly aware of how empty her stomach was. “Food is needed.”


	36. Chapter Nineteen, A Letter to Past Selves...and Giles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to amidtheflowers for the beta! I changed some things since she betaed it, so mistakes are mine. :o) And love this change of pace mood board by Badwolfjedi!
> 
> This is a short, short one. Longer chapters coming...I'm 4 ahead of this one.

Dear Buffy and Dawn,

By now you both know what future you. . . what we’ve done. We traveled back in time to convince Spike that he’s loved. Dawn, you have latent powers as a Key, and you did your homework. But even with that, we didn’t realize the full ramifications of casting such a spell and all the complexities that came with traveling back in time. We now know that our actions have impacted you both and our friends, often in good, healing ways, but also with some unforeseen consequences that have been painful and devastating. For the consequences, we are so sorry. We are also sorry for not taking into account what it might be like to find out that your future selves took such a risk with the universe. Love sorta overrode the logic of it all. We hope you can forgive us for the harm that we may have caused and for the harm learning of this may cause you now. We know that we’ll be in this journey together a little longer as we jump from time to time and end up closer to our own future time, and we promise to do our best to preserve the universe or the world or whatever else falls into jeopardy with time travel. God, do we sound like Giles or what? 

Love,  
(Future) Dawn and Buffy 

P.S. Give the other letter to Giles.

 

Dear Giles,

Please don’t yell at us. I know we screwed up. If I could do it over again, I wouldn’t have talked Dawn into casting the spell. I don’t know if you’ve ever done something like this out of love. Maybe you haven’t because you’re all British and stuffy, but then again, you’re not like that at all. Not even close to Wesley on the stuffiness scale. Anyway, you know me. I follow my emotions. Always have. 

I’m only telling you this because I don’t want the universe to explode any more than it already has. Spike died. Again. As in a second time. (Well, technically third. I have to keep things kinda vague for reasons.) He came back in L.A. with Angel of all people. And Spike died again helping Angel out with an apocalypse he started. (I guess you wouldn’t be surprised about that. The Angel part. But maybe the Spike part, too.) And when I found out, I kinda lost it. I think I went temporarily insane. I love Spike, but you know that by now. 

Dawn can use her Key abilities to time travel, and we used them. We came to a random time in the past but in our own bodies. And we don’t stay in one place for long before we skip forward in time again. We discovered pretty early on that changes we made had ripple effects on the way things happened and on our past selves. Some weren’t so great. Dawn couldn’t end the spell, so we decided to change as little as possible. The only thing we’ve been doing is being kinder to everyone. Maybe standing up for ourselves a little better.

And that’s been honestly more healing than either of us expected. I feel closer to everyone and not just Spike. I feel closer to you. And our past selves are less. . . broken. I feel less broken. The last few years have been hard. We’re not from far in the future and let’s just say a lot has happened. 

That doesn’t mean our choice was right. I know that. Dawn knows that. And we know that we’re going to need you to navigate this next part. I know that we need you. I love you, Giles. 

Buffy


	37. Chapter Twenty, New Beginnings - Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to Badwolfjedi for her lovely Dawncentric mood board! I love the emotional tones of this board...just lovely. Somehow even with the chapter being quite long and very packed with loads of little details about what's happened since the shooting, she managed to capture everything just beautifully. 
> 
> And thank you to amidtheflowers for her tireless beta efforts! :o) She always asks the good questions. 
> 
> I'm woefully behind on responding to comments again...but I promise we appreciate all comments and likes and even if you're just reading along and don't want to say a word. Thank you!

 

_Dawn_

 

“Dawn, now! Stake him now!” 

 

As the time travel magic settled her back into her body, Dawn shrieked in terror as she saw a dirt-covered, snarling, fang-faced vampire wearing a forest green suit charged at her. On instinct, her hand gripped the wood in her hand, and she slammed the stake into his chest. The vampire’s eyes widened in surprise, and Dawn recognized the teacher’s assistant from her math class. He’d been young and cute with curly, floppy red hair, and he’d been genuinely nice. The red hair gave him away. That and his penchant for wearing clothing that was slightly dated like his current green suit. 

 

Dawn glimpsed Buffy grinning at her with crossed arms as the vamp dust floated away. “Good one, Dawnie! You’re getting better at this!”

 

Dawn felt exhaustion grip her shoulders and press down. A quick glance at her watch told her it 2:09 in the morning. A huge yawn took over before she could stop it. “I still can’t believe you did this every night in high school.” Something ticked into her mind. “Thank god summer school is later in the day, so I can sleep in tomorrow.” 

 

Dawn was apparently in summer school for a few subjects. She guessed that made complete and total sense. That year had been crazy, but Buffy had bailed her on summer school the first time around, talking with the school counselor and principal. She even wrote a letter to the school board, stating why her sister needed a break from school. But this time around, Buffy had thought the structure would do her sister good after what happened. Plus, Dawn was really behind in learning.

 

Buffy twirled a stake in one hand and tucked her left arm around Dawn’s right one. “Yep and yep. Giles even helped me study.” 

 

Dawn snorted at the mental image that popped into her head with Giles sweating in tweed and asking her sister for facts about biology or US history. “He did?” 

 

Buffy’s mouth rose on one side. “Mmm, yep. Not very effectively because slaying is kinda distracting.” 

 

“Except when you have to wait hours for one to rise.” They’d waited five hours and twenty-four minutes for Mike a.k.a. Thaddeus Tatter to show his undead face. No wonder he’d gone by Mike with his students.

 

“True.”

 

“That was my math teacher’s assistant this year. He wanted to teach. He was cute and nice.”

 

Buffy squeezed her close. “Oh, Dawnie, sorry. Small towns are hard. Easier to recognize those who get turned. L.A. was different.”

 

“It’s okay. I guess I should be used to it.” Dawn’s stomach churned with anxiety. She and her-Buffy had decided to be open when their future selves were present even if they’d also agreed that they couldn’t share information about the future for obvious reasons. And really, who knew what the future held now? “And Buffy?”

 

“Yeah?” Buffy seemed relaxed for the first time in a while. Willow hadn’t gone all Darth Willow, no one had died (yet), and Spike was missing, but this Buffy was struggling in a different way this time. Though she was more open with her feelings, no one except Giles seemed to be even talking to Buffy and Dawn. 

 

“I’m future me right now.” Dawn rubbed her leg; it ached a little.

 

“Oh?” Buffy drew back a bit, and Dawn saw her sister studying her face as they walked along. 

 

Unable to read Buffy’s expression, Dawn hesitated to say anything else, tripping a little over a bit of tangled grass in the cemetery. 

 

Buffy tugged her back close again as Dawn’s eyes welled with tears. They stopped, and Buffy rounded in front of Dawn, tucking a strand of long hair behind her ear. Buffy waited until Dawn made eye contact. “You’re my sister. You know that, right? You’re an older version of my sister. Someone who has no doubt seen and experienced things I won’t know about, but you’re still Dawn. You are my flesh and blood. And that’s good enough for me.” 

 

“Oh, Buffy.” Heavy tears rolled down Dawn’s cheeks. “I screwed up.”

 

Buffy stroked away the evidence of Dawn’s regret. This past Buffy had a confidence in her eyes that her sister before hadn’t had. The other past Buffy had been stronger by the end of that year but not yet healed – her smile hiding the still gaping vulnerability underneath. This time, being alive wasn’t as painful. “You already said you were sorry in your letter. Dawn and I talked about it. We aren’t upset. We don’t know what happened with the Spike in your timeline, and we know that you meant well.”

 

“Oh. Have you heard from Spike?” As soon as Dawn asked, she knew the answer. 

 

“No. But we’ve been searching for him. Well, as much as we can without actually leaving the hellmouth with the something that’s brewing. Possibly First Evil related.”

 

“Spike’s going after his soul,” Dawn blurted before she realized that this Buffy probably knew that already – the same as her Buffy. 

 

“I know.” Buffy paled. “I’m really worried.” 

 

Buffy’s simple words said it all. Dawn knew her sister was scared out of her mind. Heck, Dawn was scared. What if the universe took Spike from them in saving Tara and allowing the others to live? The whole reason for their journey would be for nothing. Or would it? 

 

Other information came forward from the recesses of Dawn’s brain. “Anya’s trying to help find him, but she’s not talking to us, so it’s sorta round about through Giles.”

 

“Yeah. She made it pretty clear that she’s doing it for Spike and not us. Though I don’t think that Xander really appreciates the ‘for Spike’ aspect of it. According to Giles.” Buffy sighed, and Dawn saw her go into stiff-upper-lip mode. “Giles said to wake him up whenever you showed up again. No matter the day, the hour, or the minute. I sarcastically asked him about the second, but he just sighed at me. He was probably polishing his glasses, but I couldn’t see over the phone line.”

 

“And he’s here now. Staying in Mom’s room this time.” Dawn remembered how there’d always been an undercurrent of something between her mom and Giles. Dawn just wasn’t sure what it was or if it was mutual. He’d certainly seemed shaken by her passing. “So, we should go wake him up.”

 

“He’ll be thrilled. He just got over the jet lag.” Buffy steered them out the cemetery gate and toward home. 

 

“What day is it?” As soon as Dawn asked, the answer popped into her head. “Thursday, June 27. Why does summer school have to be so long?” That last bit came out a little bit like a whine, but then, she remembered something else. “At least tomorrow is the last day.” 

 

“It must be hard going through school all over again. God, I’d hate that. I mean, not because I hate learning. Just the juggling of being a Slayer and schoolwork.”

 

“I thought you were thinking about going back to college?” That was newish. Last time, Buffy hadn’t bothered after things fell through while she worked at the Doublemeat. Dawn had found the crumpled letter informing Buffy of the missed deadline in the trash at home. 

 

Buffy shrugged. “Just a class or two in the fall while I work for Max. Willow will be leaving to find her balance. I need to find mine. Spike would want me to. And I have to be a good role model for you.”

 

Dawn paused to look both ways at a deserted intersection. “I hope you’re doing it for you, too.” 

 

As they strode across the street, Buffy nodded. “I am. There are lots of balls in the air, and I can control the slaying, work, and school, which helps.” 

 

Something else hit Dawn sideways, and her eyes grew round as she abruptly stopped. “Dad’s paying child support. You don’t have to work as many hours. Whoa.”

 

Buffy pushed an index finger up on Dawn’s chin to close the gap that her mouth made when it hung open in surprise. “I know. And he’s paying the back pay for when he didn’t send money for me. Crazy, huh?”

 

“Did Hallie do that?” Dawn never in a million. . . no, a trillion years thought her dad would pay the mandatory child support. 

 

Buffy shrugged, pausing to allow a car to pass before crossing the street adjacent to home. The headlights were needlessly bright, and Dawn squinted. “No earthly idea, and I haven’t approached Anya about asking Hallie.” Buffy drew a deep breath, her eyes misting over again. Stiff-upper-lip mode hadn’t lasted long. “And you should know that Spike left us money, too. With a note about the odd jobs he’s been doing. Said not to ask too much about the jobs, but he promised none of them were too nefarious.” 

 

“That’s why there was all the cash in the cookie jar?” The Summers sisters rarely had actual cookies in their cookie jar, a fact that many of the Potentials had lamented over until one of them started baking. Then, they’d been inundated with cookies of all kinds. 

 

Buffy nodded. “I found his note about it when I was going through his things in my room. He doesn’t always fold things neatly.” 

 

Dawn had borne witness to the piles of wrinkled T-shirts and crumpled jeans. The coat though? He always hung it carefully. “But his clothes always looks impeccably pressed.” 

 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Buffy held her hand up beside her mouth as if telling a secret, “he irons.” 

 

A giggle bubbled past Dawn’s lips before she could stop herself. “He does?”

 

Buffy nodded. “With an ironing board and everything. And not one of those little ones. One of the big ones that folds up. And this is TMI, but sometimes, he would be naked in his crypt and smoking a cigarette. While ironing.”

 

Now, Dawn couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, my god. So glad that I never came by when he was doing that!”

 

Buffy couldn’t help it and joined her sister in the giggle fest. “A-and if he had money, he sometimes,” Buffy paused dramatically, “took things to be dry cleaned.”

 

Dawn’s ribs were beginning to ache, and she was struggling to breathe. “I cannot. . . picture. . . that.” 

 

As they got close to their house with the front porch light inviting them home, Buffy sobered and held Dawn’s arm tightly. “I miss him, Dawn. A lot.” 

 

Dawn’s past self’s sadness and fear mingled with her own. “Me, too.” 

 

“I know you’re not supposed to tell me anything about the future, but does Spike. . . does he go after his soul? Does he survive?” Buffy shook her head. “No. Sorry.”

 

Dawn bit her lip. Would it hurt to share this one similarity? “If I answer, you can’t ask any more questions about it.” 

 

Buffy was solemn in her agreement and stopped on the sidewalk to face her sister. “Pinky swear.”

 

“Okay.” Dawn willed the universe not to strike her down on the spot and then, went for it. “He does. He goes after his soul for you, Buffy.” 

 

Dawn watched her sister as the gravity of the affirmation rolled over her. “Oh. He did.” A tear slipped down her face, glinting in the light from the streetlamps. 

 

“Oh, Buffy. He loves you. He’d do anything for you.”

 

Buffy caught the next tear with her fingertips. “B-but I told him that I loved him as he is.” 

 

“Even if he killed a person? Willfully and in full awareness of what he was doing?” Hopefully, Spike would never be so weakened and alone that the First could take advantage of him in this version of events. 

 

Past Buffy hesitated. “It would depend on the situation.” 

 

Dawn gritted her teeth. “I’m glad he killed Warren. I almost lost all the people I love. I don’t understand why you can’t just be glad Warren’s gone.”

 

“I-I get why Spike did it. I do.” Buffy’s face crumpled, and she turned to face the shadows with her arms wrapped around her ribcage like limbs barely holding her up. She was silent, but Dawn could guess that there were tears streaming over her cheeks. “And I-I just want him home. And alive.”

 

Dawn totally agreed on that point. “Undead,” she teased, taking things a different direction. 

 

Buffy’s returned laugh was a little relieved. “Undead. Whatever.” 

 

Dawn marched around to face her sister; kissed her forehead because yes, she was taller now; and gave Buffy her beariest bear hug. “He’s coming home. I believe it.”

 

Buffy rewarded her with a squeak – a squeak of surprise and not discomfort and then hugged back albeit more gently. The sisters stood there hugging it out for at least a minute. 

 

With her chin on Dawn’s shoulder, Buffy asked, “No crystal ball?”

 

Dawn held Buffy tighter. “I wish!” Dawn pulled back. “No, wait. Scratch that. No wishing of any kind just took place.” She returned to the hug. “And no, I don’t have a crystal ball. Sadly.” 

 

“No wishes.” Buffy glanced left and right with exaggerated drama though her tone was serious. “Lots of vengeance demon-y types potentially around.” 

 

Dawn nodded. “Right.” She inhaled deeply. “Talk with Giles?” 

 

Once in the house, Buffy ran up to wake up Giles while Dawn fretted at the bottom of the stairs with one hand balanced on the rail and one foot shifting back and forth between her knee and the floor like a ballerina who’d had too much caffeine. Every fiber of her being felt on edge, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was about to face Giles for the first time since the truth had come out or if it was because the last time she was here was when Warren had burst into the house. She still didn’t know how Warren had gotten out of jail in the first place. 

 

When Giles emerged from the hallway’s darkness, Dawn straightened and tried hard not to cry. She couldn’t look him in the eye. 

 

As soon as Giles made it to the bottom of the steps, Dawn felt his arms go around her, and without a word, he hugged her close, laying his head atop hers. 

 

The tears flowed again, and holding onto him, she whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

 

“As you should be in casting a spell like that.” His tone was gentle as he scolded her. “But you haven’t had the best models for magic use. Myself included if you look at my past. I’m not here to cast stones, and there’s nothing you can do about it now.” 

 

She held him tighter and waited through the rest of her tears, hiccupping and then saying, “That’s what everyone keeps saying. Well, you and Spike and Buffy and my Buffy.” 

 

Giles stepped back and offered her a close-lipped smile. “There must be some truth to it then.”

 

Dawn found his eyes then. They were unwaveringly full of kindness. “I don’t deserve it.”

 

“What, Dawnie?” Buffy asked from the bottom step.

 

“The compassion.” 

 

“It’s yours for the taking,” Buffy insisted. “Always.”

 

Dawn glanced between Giles and Buffy. They weren’t backing down. Dawn took a hitching breath. “O-okay. Buffy said you needed to talk with me as soon as I showed up. What can I do?”

 

“It requires talking about the spell. And hot chocolate,” Buffy said, heading toward the kitchen. “No tea.”

 

Giles yawned. “Do I have to drink the bloody chocolate?”

 

Buffy made a small sound like he should know better. “Do you remember what happened last time we had a serious conversation in the middle of the night over tea?” 

 

“My Buffy was there for that one,” Dawn offered with a little bit of uncertainty. Should she say stuff like that? 

 

“Interesting. You remember that?” Giles asked, trailing after Buffy.

 

Dawn was wondering the same thing. How much did past Buffy remember about Giles getting so upset about Spike and how much did the spell block out to preserve the timeline? 

 

“I do, so no tea this time,” Buffy said firmly.

 

Giles settled onto a seat at the kitchen island, and he pulled out a small flip phone while Dawn went to retrieve mugs. 

 

As Dawn opened the cabinet, she noticed that Giles looked like he was typing something. “Giles, you got a cell phone?”

 

Giles didn’t look up from the tiny screen. “Yes. I did. The witches in the Devon coven suggested that it would make communication easier.” He pushed his glasses up on top of his head and held the phone closer. “Though I don’t know if it does.” He mashed another button and then closed it down with a click. 

 

“Go, Giles.” Dawn’s cheerleading was a bit muted. 

 

“And I got my driver’s permit.” Buffy breezed by with the bag of good flaked chocolate in one hand and plucked away the cat mug Dawn was holding. 

 

Dawn checked in with her past self and was surprised to find out that Buffy was on top of things. “You did! How?”

 

“Duh. Like anyone would. I took the written test. I’m over 18, and now I just need to pass the actual driving part of the test. I need to practice first. Giles said he’d drive with me. It might take a while with him traveling, but I’m determined.” 

 

Giles made a small noise like a cross between a laugh and sound of resignation. 

 

Buffy studiously ignored his commentary and focused on Dawn. “I figured it was time I learned. I can’t let my little sister pass me up on the driving thing.” Buffy didn’t say that part of why she was learning was because Xander wasn’t talking to them, and he was the one with the wheels. She then waggled the ceramic mug at Giles and crinkled her nose. “I remember this mug, so no.” She leaned across Dawn and shoved it barely back into the cabinet.

 

Dawn couldn’t help but grin at Giles’s startled expression. She pulled out another cup and set it on the counter. Then, she got the marshmallows and milk as Buffy fired up the stove and got out a pot. 

 

Minutes later, the hot chocolate was steaming in mugs as they gathered around the island. Everyone took a few sips, and Dawn relished the richness of the sweet chocolate on her tongue and the foaminess of the squishy marshmallows.

 

Giles ran his thumb and forefinger over the handle of his cup. “The spell you cast. You have access to your powers as a Key. Powers beyond what Glory wanted to use you for.”

 

Dawn swallowed. She hadn’t even told Buffy this next part. “Yeah. I figured out to access something inside of me that can be used for casting spells.” She didn’t know quite what to call the piece inside of her that thrummed with ancient vitality when she touched it with her mind, heart, and. . . will. “At first, I researched opening gates between dimensions because I figured that was what I was created for. But that research led to how opening portals to other dimensions affects time and space, and well, that scared me a lot. What I did find in the texts about portals and alternate dimensions was a lot of writing on time travel. There was similarity in the spells though the time travel ones hadn’t been used very often by humans. And it seemed sort of like taking a small jump back in time would allow me to exercise my powers without opening a gaping portal that I couldn’t close.” She bit her lip. “I made small jumps back here and there. It worked. Nothing terrible happened. The most I went back was a few hours.”

 

“So, then, something happened. Something with Spike,” Giles said softly. “He died. A third time.” 

 

Dawn caught Buffy’s eyes with her own, and though there was sorrow there, she smiled encouragingly. Dawn studied one of her marshmallows, which had almost completely disintegrated. “Yeah, and Buffy, she was really upset. More upset than I’d seen her in a long time, and I was afraid.”

 

“Afraid of what?” Buffy asked, clearing her throat. 

 

Dawn’s heart pounded in her chest. “Afraid I’d lose you again. To depression. To trauma. I dunno. That you’d go away in your head and not really be there even though you were living and breathing and doing. . . everything you needed to do.”

 

“Going through the motions.” 

 

Dawn couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, but she nodded again. “A-and I felt guilty, too.”

 

Buffy bit her lip. “Why?”

 

“Because. . .” Could Dawn say this part? “Because of how I’d treated Spike before for reasons I can’t say. . . and I-I thought maybe he died not knowing how I really felt about him.” Dawn’s mind rewound over what she’d just said. . . and not said. It was a lot. 

 

“Oh.”

 

“So. . . yeah.” Dawn’s chest ached. “So, I did the spell with Buffy. We went further back than I’d ever gone. And we ended up together. Some of the things I read talked about skipping through time like a rock on a river, but we didn’t know if that would happen because it hadn’t happened when I’d done it before. B-but I think that’s because the jumps were too short before.” She took a deep breath and stared at her finger lingering on the handle of her cup. “All I know is that we’re jumping through time now, and eventually, when we reach the time that I cast the spell, it’ll end. Buffy and I talked about stopping it, but I don’t think I can. I didn’t read anything about brakes or how to stop it. The magic is tied to me, but i-it’s out of my hands to stop. Buffy and I – my Buffy and I – met up twice now. The first time, we talked about what to do, and we agreed to change as little as possible because we noticed that when we did change things, there were consequences. Some not so good.”

 

Giles was silent for what felt like an eternity to Dawn. He took a sip of hot chocolate. When Dawn thought she might burst with waiting, he said, “I do believe there may be a way to stop the spell. I have some connections through the Council. Believe it or not, there are individuals out there who make time travel studies their life’s work. And not just demons, who are facilitating vengeance. I don’t know the ramifications of stopping the spell. Whether doing so will cause more harm than good. Or whether staying the course would be safer for our world. I spoke with Anya, but she wasn’t much help. The kind of magic you used is not one she’s privy to, and though she can sense the alteration in the timeline and can tell when there’s a difference in past and future versions of each of you, she cannot tell what the changes in the timeline consist of. So, I’ve been messaging back and forth with one such time travel scholar. She has agreed to meet me in England when I go back with Willow and Tara.”

 

Dawn was scared to ask the next question, but she forced herself. “Do you think what Buffy and I did. . . do you think that’s what’s causing this big evil to come forth?” 

 

Giles sighed. “I don’t know, Dawn. I don’t know if it added to the impact of Buffy’s resurrection or if it had a neutral effect. We may never know.”

 

“Oh.” Dawn bowed her head. 

 

There was a quiet knock on the front door, and Dawn and Buffy both perked up at the same time. Giles didn’t seem as surprised. 

 

“Willow asked me to let her know when you or future Buffy arrived. Even if it was the middle of the night,” he explained. 

 

Dawn closed her eyes. “Oh.”

 

“I told her to wait until morning, but I guess she couldn’t wait.”

 

Buffy stood from where she’d been lounging. “I’ll check to make sure it’s her.” Before Dawn could protest, Buffy was off.

 

A few seconds later, the redheaded witch limped into the kitchen with Tara moving slowly behind her. Willow’s green eyes were gentle. “Dawnie.” She held out her arms. 

 

Before Dawn even had a thought, she was across the room and embracing Willow. 

 

“I love you,” Willow whispered. “And I got very mad at your sister and said some not so great stuff right before we were all shot. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. This whole thing has taught me that life is too short to be at odds with the people you love. And I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to other Buffy when she comes around, too.”

 

Dawn was crying again when Tara spoke, her voice surprisingly strong despite her initial stutter. “A-and we want to help you find Spike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Willow was originally supposed to carry a grudge for much longer. This was something I actually talked with Offyourbird, yellowb, and Cosmic Tuesdays in NY when we were walking up 1000 steps in a park near where yellowb was working. But as I was writing, Willow decided that she had other plans. And of course, there's a whole back story of Tara nudging her along in my head, but that won't likely be in the story. 
> 
> (And I'm sorry that Spike ironing naked went in there but that kinda...well, don't ask me where that came from because Spike wouldn't want me to tell it...as depicted in the mood board, but his girls needed a laugh, so he'd probably be cool with it.)


End file.
